


The Half A Decade Inbetween

by herewandering



Series: DadInnit AU [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A metric fuck ton of canon divergence, Adoptive SBI, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Artist!TommyInnit, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-typical language, DadInnit, Gen, Not the actual CCs, Parent TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), This is about the characters in Dream SMP, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29073360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herewandering/pseuds/herewandering
Summary: Dream's visit to Techno's cabin shakes Tommy to his core. He doesn't want anyone to get hurt anymore. So he runs again, but this time he isn't running anywhere he knows.He expects Dream to catch him immediately...but he doesn't. He expects to be gone a very limited amount of time, not five years. He expects to be alone, not to have pseudo-adopted four children of varying temperments.TLDR; TommyInnit speedruns Dadza's life in five years, which is probably record time. Watch out Dream, there's a new speedrunner in town.
Relationships: All relationships in this fic are platonic or familial, Everyone but Tommy is only mentioned or in flashbacks
Series: DadInnit AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133036
Comments: 217
Kudos: 977





	1. Forty Thousand Blocks Either Way

**Author's Note:**

> Tommy spends his first year away from anything he ever called home. 
> 
> This fic is a work of extremely canon divergent self-indulgent fiction. If any cc's, especially Tommy, express any kind of discomfort with these kinds of fanfictions I will take it down immediately. Enjoy <3

To be completely fair, he didn’t expect to make it this far without proper winter shoes. He left almost everything Techno gave him in the raccoon hole. Looking back at the snowy hellscape he just trampled through, his anxieties fill him again. The phantom dings he’s been getting from the communicator in his pocket nearly send him into a panic every time. Time...there isn’t much ‘til sunrise now. Everything was...confusing. This time, his running away wouldn’t get anybody hurt. Nobody but him. He gathers wood as the sun rises over the hill again. He kills sheep and cows roaming the plains. The small groups of pigs are untouched. He sets his spawn in the middle of nowhere. It is safer than any home he’s known in a long time. 

In his head, there's a list of important things to get done. Find a village, trade for winter clothes, find a stable source of food, get better tools than his shitty stone ones. He’s been walking for days, colder than sin. His inventory space prioritizes the things he decided on keeping. On the second night, in a hole hollowed out in the wall of a cave, he looks through it all. Photos of him and Tubbo. His special compass. The Prime Log. The Friendship Emerald. The Antarctic Empire shield. Tubbo’s green bandana. And-Holy shit, how did he not realize? One of the special gifts Ghostbur had given him way back at Logstedshire. The large hole in the back of Wilbur's old jacket wouldn’t be super great for cold, but he could patch it up when he found a village next. It’s not at its greatest state. It keeps him warm through the December night. 

Before now, he had refused to use it. But..It was from Ghostbur, he couldn’t just throw it out. How he’d managed to bring it and totally forget was beyond him. A week later when he finds a village, the first thing he trades for is yellow fabric, thread, and a needle. _“Trades”_ is a bit of an overstatement. When he’d arrived, overworked and obviously traumatized, the villagers took it upon themselves to cater to him like he was a little kid. Pride nearly caused him to reject all their offerings of help, but he needed anything he could get. He rationalized it by calling it “stealing”. Nobody would be kind enough to give away their shit for free. 

A seamstress teaches him how to mend things and patch things up with pieces of fabric or leather. He does Wilbur’s jacket himself and she commends his quick learning. The blacksmith gives him a pickaxe, a sword, and a helmet. The butcher gives him enough meat to last him a week if he eats right. They help him get a long strand of dyed leather to attach his precious Compass to. He wears it around his neck, but still under the shirt. At dinner on his last night, an older woman trailed by her kids approached him at dinner. She barely spoke a word to him, only tutting at him carefully and muttering.  
“Look at this, such long hair, you’ve got to tie it up when you eat,”  
He says nothing, she says nothing else. The woman ties up his hair with a red band. Tommy sees her as she leaves. Her hair brushes down across her shoulders.

He avoids villages after that for a while. He spends the next week walking circles in an obnoxiously large desert. He hardly sleeps, most of his time is spent underground. He desperately needs diamond. There were too many mob deaths in his current set up with his full iron set. Creeper explosions knocked him out of the park for far too long. One unfortunate aspect of the desert, however, were _husks_. When he went to the surface to his shitty makeshift tent, they’d be everywhere. Bastards don’t die in the sun. What kind of zombies don’t _die_ in the fucking _sun_!? It feels amazing when he slashes through their burnt-up skin with a diamond sword for the first time. When he tries to leave, he runs into a wandering trader who lets him ride with him into the next biome. They part ways amicably.

The rest of his first month as a runaway is a blur. Non-stop moving, fighting, grinding. It’s a desperate plea for escape. Anywhere he goes it’s mind-numbingly cold. Every time he sets up for the night, he picks an item from his past and holds it in his hands. Even when he passes through warmer biomes he freezes. Warmth environmentally can’t make up for whatever emotional warmth he’s been lacking. He just crafts more torches, holds the mementos a bit closer and moves on with his life. Every time he sees his reflection, he looks healthier physically. His eyes though...there’s no missing the absence of blue in those eyes. 

It’s mid-February when it starts getting warmer. Only slightly. He isn’t really sure what day it is, only that he has to keep going. He finds a mine shaft underneath a birch forest he’s staying in. Clearing it, collecting loot, killing mobs...it helps. A little. He feels a little more normal. He cracks a joke once or twice. Loudly shouts a “Yeah bitch!” when he gets his first ender pearl in a long time. He gets lost for what had to be upwards of six hours in the damn place. Only _once_ does the thought ‘I’m the ‘uman GPS’ cross his mind. _Technoblade_. The fucking “Human GPS”. He’d left Techno in that cabin, it was safer for him that way. Even if he never took a scratch in battle. He has to take a few minutes to sit down and _breathe_ when he realizes that he _misses him_. He didn’t expect to miss him. 

For as long as he can, he ignores the thoughts of missing anyone other than Tubbo and Wilbur. Flowers start to bloom again. He’s never had an eye for building or design, never one for making things “pretty”. He’s in an oak forest when he comes across the first flowers of spring. They’re red ones, that’s for sure. Someone who knew a little more about the forest could probably tell him what kind they were. The petals were large. He saw them and...smiled. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t entertaining. He didn’t know why, but he saw the flowers poking through the little bits of snow left on the ground and _smiled_. Later, he’d identify this feeling as the first modicum of hope he’d felt in a long time. Though taboo, he picks the red flowers. He wishes he remembered how Niki’d taught him how to make flower crowns. 

He stays put in that forest for a while. Supplies need stocking up on and such. There’s no way he’d ever admit it, but he was waiting for more pretty things to sprout. They don’t come. That little bit of hope he had dies away softly one night. The next morning he rips the shoulder of his jacket on a stray tree branch. He takes it as a sign he should be angry and pessimistic. The anger boils in him as he gathers leather to patch the shoulder. When he sews, the needle pricks his finger seventeen times and it bleeds until the next morning. He moves on from the forest. He walks head down for _hours_. Then, he sees it. He’d nearly stepped on the lovely little orange flower.

He rips his eyes up in an instant, his heartbeat quickens. He sees every colour imaginable. In a haste he hasn’t felt in so long, he tears up the closest hill and looks over the gigantic flower forest with awe. He’s seen flowers before it’s just...something about this...it _heals_ him. He looks over something beautiful, recognizes its beauty, and feels the effects of his scenery. Then, something buzzes. Below him, emerging from its hive, is a bee. The first he’s seen this year. The beauty, the life, the _joy_ of a new spring sends him to his knees. He _cries_ over the new green grass, the buzzing of the bees, the life in the flowers. Despite everything, he’s here. He is _alive_. 

No one could hear him, so he screamed it from the top of the hill. No one could see him, so he picked a flower of every variety he could find and smashed them together into a shitty crown with the slimeballs he found rolling around in the bottom of his bag. He wears the thing until every petal dies, then he makes another. And then another. Nobody can tell him it looks stupid. Nobody can say it doesn’t match. He wears a _crown_ made out of pure _life_ and nobody can take the life away from him. He has _one_ left. Just one. If he wants to spend it in grassy fields watching animals and bees and birds and bugs, wearing shitty crowns and clutching mementos of his favourite people, he can. When he looks in his reflection, his eyes look bluer. Not right, but better. 

The next village he goes to is one in a savannah. They have different cultures and use different blocks. He finds he quite likes terracotta and acacia wood. The whole place is very warm, in both temperature and personality. On his first day, many villagers invite him to their communal dinner. They don’t just eat, they teach him songs to sing. He sings one of Wilbur’s for them and they eat it up. He sleeps well, a villager gives him a journal and a pen to scrawl down his adventures. It’s more of Ranboo’s thing, but it could be useful. He logs all the things he knows to be true. His name is Tommy Careful Danger Innit. He is far from Dream SMP. His communicator has been off since the second day. It is...He does not know what day it is. He asks. 

“April 9th.”  
His world _shatters_. That’s his birthday. He says as much to the cartographer who told him. The cartographer wishes him a happy birthday and leaves it at that. It is so much more than something simple to him. When he’d last had a birthday he was surrounded by friends and family. He was eating cake and opening presents and feeling... _loved_. Now, in a savannah village by himself, he is seventeen. Old, he feels old. The weight of all that’s happened hits him again. He is months of travel away from anything he ever regarded as home. He’s just been _wandering_. What does he do now? He sings at dinner again and leaves before sunrise. Nobody will remember he was there by next month. 

Villages are like a bad omen to him now, they always reignite something in him. He just feels so fucking lonely now. He misses Tubbo. He misses Wilbur. He misses Ranboo. He misses Quackity. He misses and he misses and he misses. Even people he shouldn’t. Even Phil, even Techno, even _Dream_ somehow. Too much time is spent lying awake throughout April imaging a different birthday. A birthday where everyone was there. Wilbur and him would get in some childish argument which would end in him saying something so dumb that Wil could only laugh and ruffle his hair. Tubbo would be more happy and excited than he was, and he’d pretend Tubbo was the clingy one but he’d be stuck to his side the whole day. Techno would get him some shitty fucking book and tell him to learn something important, and he’d fight him and deny he’d ever read it, but when he tried to take it back Tommy would clutch the thing to his chest. Gifts and cards settled on a shelf in his dirt shack. He’d even imagined Dream there one night, but he’d fallen asleep before he could shake himself out of the daydream. At the end of his nightmare Dream had made him throw all of his presents into a pit. 

May and June feel like a blur. He keeps track of the days in a shittly drawn calendar in his journal. He latches onto what he can. Pretty flowers he finds springing up everywhere, the date, the gear he has. Someone would bully him for his newly forming mantra if there were anyone to talk to. Because more often now than ever he drifts out of reality as he does his tasks and time passes like a knife through butter. Muttering to himself anywhere, anytime.  
“My name is Tommy Innit. I am seventeen years old. I am alone, but I am safe.”  
‘Safe’ is the most important bit. There’s nothing to blow up here, nowhere he can be exiled to. Nobody to even exile him. Lonely, but safe. Safe is good. 

Early July he raids a mob spawner and gets not one, but _two_ saddles. Phil used to hoard the things. He remembered him having far too many but never using them. It always seemed stupid to him not to. Within a week he’s thrust back into a snowy mountain biome, the final decision is that it’s easier to climb than to go around. Tommy didn’t even know mountains could be this fucking big! The cold on the mountain is fairly welcome, this summer hadn’t been kind in terms of the sweltering heat. He spends a day and a half making his way up...and loses sight of how the hell to get down. Camp is never set up. Wherever he can walk, he goes. A good way down must be close.

It takes another day before he spots a group of horses heading down the mountain. As quiet as he can, he follows. If someone were to have paid close attention, they would know that the horse at the back of the pack had spotted him. Tommy is not one for things like “paying close attention”, it happens to be _beneath him_. Even now. He’s a big man! That is, until he trips halfway back down the path and nearly breaks a leg. It hurts, he lets out a string of extremely loud expletives. He makes a splint with some spare leather and a stick he found laying around. Flopping backwards into the snow, he huffs loudly. There’s no way he’ll make it down the mountain any time soon now. Dream could find him here. Dream could-His thoughts send him into a panic, he urges himself to keep moving. Standing on the leg nearly makes him shout, and he manages six steps before he falls. 

Expecting snow, he braces himself. It doesn’t come. A horse, a pretty large one at that, has come up from his side and caught him. The horse leans down, Tommy takes the queue to hop on. Being carried down the mountain is a long process. There is ample time to give the horse a once over. It’s plain black, with a long and wavy mane and tail, its coat is longer around its hooves. Light reflects off of the snow and onto the horse, whose coat looks glossy and fairly well-kempt despite its wild nature. They make it to the bottom of the mountain and the horse lets him down onto a fairly large rock. He offers the horse an apple. 

Within a week, Tommy realizes this horse has decided that Tommy needs taking care of. After numerous attempts, he can’t shake it off. He feeds it, obviously, he’s not a monster. The wheat and apples he’s collected become a regular part of the horse’s diet. He sets up in a small cave exactly one week after the falling fiasco and decides the horse needs a name.  
“So, are you a lady horse or not?” Tommy asks, knowing the horse can’t answer.  
The horse gives a big huff, which makes him laugh, “Alright, alright! Welcome to the club, Big Man!”  
He brainstorms while cooking some meat for his dinner, humming a tune he’d almost forgotten.  
_Mellohi_.  
The tune fills him again, he smiles to himself. The horse seems to like it.  
“What d’ya think of the name Mellohi?”  
Mellohi gives a content huff, and that is that. 

All things considered, Mellohi is a fucking awesome horse. A wandering trader he meets recognizes his breed as a Dales Pony, native to Britain and extremely resilient. This knowledge makes Tommy lose his mind for a long time. It’s so funny to know that both he and his horse are young and strong British men. He starts making jokes about The Queen again and assumes that Mellohi must also love the Queen. The stitches in his sides from laughing at his own jokes feel so cathartic. If Mellohi were human, he’d roll his eyes at him for all his jokes, Tommy’s sure of it. They have fun. Having a companion was something Tommy sorely missed. His horse has a personality and is the most entertaining creature he’s ever met. Having someone to bounce off of makes getting back to being funny so much easier. In early August he raids a temple and finds a set of diamond horse armour. It makes sense that they match now. 

Shortly after Mellohi is armoured up, they find a Mesa and a mineshaft. He spends all of August there. It’s difficult terrain, but it’s _beautiful_. He builds himself a cobblestone tower for the first time in a long time. There’s a stable for Mellohi at the bottom, and stairs leading up to a small area for his bed. It’s not too tall, he could disassemble it in a day, but when he’s there he realizes he misses staying put. He wants a house again, and maybe it’d look a little nicer. A flower garden out front, a fireplace inside. A place for storage, a place to hold things. He explores the mineshaft, going slowly because most days he spends the morning roaming and making up silly little songs. Eventually, he tries drawing. After about a week of trying, he gets the mountain near his tower to look at least a little similar. It hurts when he has to take apart the tower. It hurts when he rides away and it looks like he’d never been there in the first place. 

September blows in slowly. It gets a little chillier. He buys a cape to wear over Wilbur’s jacket in the next village they find. It’s blood-red, dyed with poppies, lined with white fluff. He remembers the first time he stole Techno’s cape back when they’d lived together. There were no blankets anywhere! He was cold! The cape was just lounging there on the back of Techno’s chair, he couldn’t fight the temptation. It didn’t feel dissimilar to the one he’s got now. Technoblade’s was heavier. The bulk of the thing had nearly melted him. He’d accidentally fallen asleep in it that night. When he woke up, the cape and Techno were gone. There was a note left for him.  
_‘Your dinner is in the kitchen. I’m going out. P.S. Don’t steal my cape.’_  
He never really listened. 

When he looked into the fountain at the village, equipping the Antarctic Empire shield, wearing his new cape...it dawned on him how much he looked like his brothers. The jacket and the tiredness in his eyes were Wilbur's mark on him. The cape and the shield were Technos. His face...god, the more he looks, the more he looks like his dad. He tried not to think about Phil. They weren’t on the greatest of terms when he left, and part of him still didn’t really forgive him for taking Wilbur from him. His hair is the same length and the blonde is so similar now. His eyes are the tarnished blue he saw in his dad’s eyes. Adopted children should not look this much like their parents. It feels wrong. There’s one thing he’s missing. The Friendship Emerald tucked away into his bag hasn’t really had a use. He has an idea. 

When he’s ready, emotionally and literally, it’s mid-September. He ties up Mellohi to a tree branch in the chilly boreal forest. To make sure he isn’t cold, Tommy drapes his cape over his back. Ten blocks of obsidian. A flint and steel. The heat of the nether hits him so intensely he almost falls back into the portal. He gets to work. Bed after bed, explosion after explosion. Six close calls with lava. A near panic attack when he almost falls into a boiling pit of the stuff. It’s so fucking worth it. He comes back almost a full day later, destroys the portal, and collapses beside Mellohi. Sleeping against the horse, letting his breathing soothe him. Anxiety from the nether, from the thought of being found, consumes him. 

It’s worth it, in the end, it’s worth it. He holds the netherite in hand. He crafts a diamond sword, coats the blade in netherite, and places the precious emerald in the hilt. He doesn’t dare touch the thing until he can get some hefty enchantments on it, so it sits amongst his things and waits. It feels good to have an ensemble to remember those he loves the most. When he realizes how much he’s doing, and really how much he’s done, for everyone else...he stops. The end could come for him any day, and he’d never see them again. Even if he lives until he’s old and grey, there’s a chance he’ll never see anyone he holds dear again. That...He’ll learn to live with that. Either way, he always knows which direction to go if he needs to go back. 

October is more fruitful than he could ever admit. He’s got enough prowess and confidence to raid a Woodland Mansion he happened across. His luck was fantastic. He uses the Friendship sword for this momentous occasion. There may never be another mansion for him to raid. Creepers, zombies, skeletons, spiders. They all die by his blade. Fighting has become like second nature to him, but he doesn’t feel like a soldier anymore. He’s a goddamn _mercenary_. Fighting for what _he_ wants, when _he_ wants to. Out here, there is no war to die in. It’s him versus the world. The evokers pose a bit of a challenge, but he handles it and comes out stronger. Riding away from the Mansion, safe with Mellohi, he treasures the trio of totems in his bag. This was a success of the highest merit. 

During late October and all throughout November, he fades back into longing. He yearns for everything he left behind, and begs his mind to let him stop moving. He’s not driven by fear anymore, he’s just tired. It’s winter again. Assessing why he truly left comes to him easier now. Because it was always easy. Why would he ever leave them behind if it wasn’t for them? This running he’s been doing has been awfully lucky. Dream hasn’t been near him even once. Looking at the odds, he was sure it wouldn’t work. But it’s been months now. Months of moving. Non-stop moving. The days never end. He never gets a moment of peace. Though not _technically_ alone, it feels like it. He misses people, his people. He misses houses. 

Through his months of travelling, he’s started noticing beauty more. Things like art have come to him more easily. He drew the mesa, he drew the village, he drew the portal. A handful of bad attempts were made to draw Mellohi. In November he tries to draw things he remembers. L’Manberg. Techno’s cabin. His dirt shack. He watches over a village for a few days and spends the whole time drawing. He draws people. He practices. Then he tries with Tubbo from his pictures. Then he tries with Wilbur from his memory. Then it’s Big Q and Fundy. Then it’s Niki and her loaves of bread. Techno, Phil, Sam, Sapnap, Eret. Anyone, just...anyone. Clutching his little book like a lifeline, he tries to remember what they all look like. Even after long days of practice, no one really looks right. He goes back to sketching landscapes. 

One long day in December, he decides to stop fighting his urges. In the side of a mountain, he hollows out an area near the peak. Using spruce and dark oak he builds a porch and a stairway. He slaves over a large stable mid-way up. He builds a wooden house partway into the mountain. The front peaks out with glossy windows, tons of logs, hand-made fences. It feels good to build something pretty. Until now, he hadn’t noticed. The ground he walked was always paved by war and destruction. Anything pretty was blown up or otherwise destroyed. When he’d only really lived in active war zones, he found things like flower forests and pretty buildings useless. They’d be destroyed anyway. Now he’s on his last life ever, he’ll be gone for good if he lives in another warzone. It takes him weeks but he makes something _beautiful_. Wilbur would be proud. 

On the inside, the floors are lined with cobblestone. Despite everything, it’s his absolute favourite block. He uses green terracotta in the kitchen. The fireplace is made of brick. All the furniture is either dark and wooden, or soft and plush. In the living room, he lined the leather of the couch with brown wool. Sinking into it for the first time felt like heaven. His bedroom is dug further into the mountain. He makes enough space for a delicately curated rug shaped like a disc. _His_ disc. Dyes of all kinds are used generously. Hanging above his bed is a L’Manberg flag that took...way too long to craft. He imagines how _proud_ Wilbur would be if he could see this place. There’s a flat space outside, and though it’s just empty and snow-covered now, he builds a staircase to it. In the spring he plans to plant flowers and farm every crop he can. 

He checks his calendar one day when construction is nearing its end. He finds that somehow, it’s been a year. In his future garden plot, he builds another staircase to the peak of the mountain. Building out, three blocks wide, fenced on either side, is a bridge to the open air. Cold wind hits his face. He _breathes_. Last time he was this high, the pillar was thin. There were no protective measures. It was night then. It’s day now. The sky is bright, the trees are coated in snow. His cape and his jacket rest protectively on his shoulders. While the air is cold, he isn’t. He hasn’t been cold in a long time. Sticking out his arms he lets the wind hit him and laughs. It’s been a year now, he must be far. 

Stray snow smacks him in the face just as a realization does. He can check how far from home he is. No, not home. This place, this beautiful place, is home now. It’s only missing the warmth of his people. His family. He heads back into the house and grabs a few things, leaving his cape, jacket, and compass behind. It’s just his classic ensemble. Outside it's _freezing_ , but he doesn’t care. He turns on the communicator and he checks. At the edge of his platform, at the top of a mountain, he laughs out a yell.  
“Holy shit!”  
It is euphoric how far he is. There’s no way in hell that anyone would find him here. He takes a deep breath.  
“My name is Tommy Innit,” He shuffles closer to the edge of the platform.  
“I am seventeen years old,” The mountain is so tall, but when he looks over the edge he isn’t scared.  
“I am alone,” One big breath of air fills his lungs, the cold stings him. 

“And I am safe!” He jumps, cheers all the way down, and catches himself with an MLG water bucket. He’s _alone_. It is _magnificent_. There is a horse in a stable who seems to love him. There is a sword against his dresser with a symbol of his friends on it. On his kitchen table, there is a journal full of drawings that was recently filled. There are no more pages left on that old book of his. Now, he only has to decide what is written on the new pages. 

This time, he really gets to decide. Forty thousand blocks from spawn, either way.


	2. Are You Still Theseus?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he leaves on a mission to get his horse a wife, he does not expect to come home with a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some discussion of child abandonment and endangerment, while it doesn't go extremely into detail, it is a present theme. Please be cautious if this is a sensitive subject for you. <3

Gardening is much harder than he imagined. There’s a village half a day's journey away where he trades for all kinds of seeds. He spends the planting period in late February up to his arms in mud and dirt. Each section is for a different type of plant. Up in the northeast, he plants as much wheat as he possibly can. Southwest is beets, carrots, and potatoes. He remembers how to plant the potatoes best, in Pogtopia he’d been shown how. Northwest is for pumpkins and melons, he misses the taste of sweets. In the last corner, he plants every kind of flower he can find. He arranges the colours in special orders. There was a book the village librarian sold about different types of flowers. When he learns that certain flowers will grow every year after they’re planted, it makes him unabashedly happy. 

While it grows, extremely slowly, he draws the seedlings. Green sprouts get captured in intimate detail. The shading suggests he took time drawing each little leaf and stem as they bloomed. When the flowers start to get their colour, even when the buds are closed, Tommy leads Mellohi up the stairs to visit the garden. He’s got so many things to do that his loyal horse doesn’t get nearly enough attention. In between his gardening obsession and necessary chores, he builds out more space in the stable. Priority one, a coop for chickens. When he’s gotten nine lovely hens and one obnoxious rooster, he introduces Mellohi to the birds. They make excellent company for him. Each hen has her own name, and the Rooster is affectionately titled “big man”. The crowing he does every morning is so loud it travels up the mountain.

When he’s reorganizing his chests in late March he comes across his second saddle. The lightbulb in his brain goes off in an instant. Mellohi is a big man! He must want a wife. Broaching the subject to his horse is easy, preparing for his horse adventure is harder. Redstone systems were always more of Tubbo’s deal, but he manages. Getting the watering system to work was fairly easy, getting the chickens feeding system up and running was much harder. The more cuddly hens kept begging for his attention. Their cute faces make him give up until nighttime. There’s no night vision potions available, so he arranges the whole thing with one hand. When he tests it the next morning and finds it works, he shouts out a happy cheer that startles the poor birds. 

On April 1st, he leaves on his adventure. There were no horses or plains around here, and he couldn’t very well bring Mellohi! He allots himself eight days to find another horse. If all goes to plan, he’ll be home just in time for his birthday. With the saddle packed and all his gear on, he says a quick goodbye to Mellohi and is off. To start the trip off right he climbs the mountain and MLG waters off the peak. The direction he’s pointing is where he starts walking. For the first time, he feels like a proper and responsible young adult. In eight days, he will no longer be a “child”. The thought of going back crosses his mind, if only to shout at everyone who called him a child. He will _truly_ be the biggest and strongest of men. 

Things go wrong on the fourth. Even if it’s a common biome, he hasn’t come across plains yet. However, he did manage to find a ravine. The damn thing is the biggest ravine he’s ever come across. A deviation for some iron and coal might be useful. He digs a staircase down into the thing and gets to work. Most of the afternoon is spent underground. He comes out with half a stack of iron and two stacks of coal. Grimy coal dust covers his hands and face, when he stairs into a small water pool at the bottom of the ravine he looks like a raccoon. Oddly enough, there’s always been something intriguing about raccoons to Tommy. Maybe if he’s lucky he could find one out here and manage to get a quick drawing in. Any animals he’s tried to draw from memory always look terrible. That’s probably why he can’t draw Fundy right.

Washing up takes just a few minutes, the sun setting overhead. While he sets up his camp for the night, lighting his fire, he looks out at the sunset. Soft oranges and pinks beat brightly against the lavender and baby blue of slowly approaching night. He’d thought of taking up painting a few times as of late. Sunsets seem like something easy to start if he were to. His meat heats by the fire. He feels an overwhelming sense of calm and peace. The lack of interruptio-  
With a large crash and a loud shout, his evening is ruined. 

“Fuck!” Shouts a very young voice, there is audible shuffling further down the ravine.  
Tommy swipes up a torch and walks closer to the source of the noise. It doesn’t take long to find the one who shouted. _Young_ seems like an understatement. They’re at least two feet smaller than Tommy, much much too small. His mousy brown hair falls in front of his face as he tries to scale the wall of the ravine and get out. Seeing Tommy sends him into a panic, scraping up his hands and upper arms on the jagged rocks even more. What alarms Tommy most about this kid, is the wings on his back. Storm grey, with flight feathers clearly not yet developed. The right one is positioned in a way so jagged that Tommy knows he’s broken it in his fall. 

“Oi! Old bitch! Fuck off!”   
Tommy loses every urge he has to help the kid, “I am not fuckin’ old!”   
“Yea you are! You’re all old n’ shit! Go away!” He’s grinning like a little shit, but probably scared.  
It doesn’t matter to Tommy, because he’s _not_ old, “Oh my g-You are so annoying! Shouldn’t you be all cryin’ n’ shit! Your wing’s all fucked up!”  
At this, the kid looks over his shoulder. It must be the first time he’s noticed. He stops clawing up the wall and his eyes droop. His shoulders fall.  
The kid looks so sad, Tommy can’t help but pity him, “C’mon, I’ve got camp this way. I’ll fix it.”  
All protesting the boy tries disappears off his lips, he just nods and follows. 

Tommy sits the boy down in front of his fire. He pretends not to notice when one of his injured little hands swipes a piece of meat from where it was heating by the fire. Grabbing bandages from his bag, he does his best to set the wing. Phil had told him how when he was younger. It can heal on its own, he knows it can. As gently as he can, he sets the thing. Folded over in the resting position, looking strange next to its pair.   
“You aren’t gonna try n’ run are you?” Tommy asks the boy.  
The boy shakes his head and scoffs, “You’ve got a diamond sword. I wouldn’t make it far.”  
“Jesus-Y’know for being like, baby age, you’re quick,” He may be many things, but he’s certainly no _Technoblade_. Killing innocent orphans is not his forte.   
“I’m not a baby! I’m six!” The boy complains, Tommy sighs loudly. 

“You an orphan?” He asks, simply wondering if his guess was right.  
“No.”  
He has to pause there. No child with parents goes wandering off and falling into ravines. Didn’t they raise him any better?  
“Then how the fuck did you end up falling in a ravine!?”  
It’s quiet for a moment. The kid looks...sad. Too sad for a six-year-old. His voice is high and pitchy, he’s not old enough to look so sad.   
“...Got lost, I guess.”  
The tears in his eyes probably aren’t from the smoke. Something’s happened with this kid. Back when he was little he must’ve looked like this. He feels _bad_ for this kid. He grabs a spare blanket from his bag and tosses it to the kid. He looks exhausted. Tommy doesn’t feel responsible enough for this.   
“We’ll look for your mum and dad in the morning, alright?”

He watches the young boy curled up in the blanket that’s almost thrice his size. When Wilbur’d found him, he probably wasn’t much bigger. Memory of what happened was always fuzzy, but he remembers Wilbur. He’d smiled so wide at him and held his hand all the way back to his house. He wasn’t really all that scared anymore after that, he felt quite safe. As far as he knew though, he didn’t have parents. This kid does. It seems like a test for his slowly approaching adulthood. Reuniting a lost kid with his parents might be just the thing to prove that this past year had _genuinely_ changed him. 

Morning comes quickly, Tommy helps the boy out of the ravine. They walk about twenty minutes before they see plains on the horizon. Out of excitement for his newest horse, he scoops the kid up and bolts for the grassy surface. It isn’t until he sets him down that he realizes how light the boy really was. A little over thirty pounds, definitely less than some things he’s had to carry. A little ways further is a fairly sizable village. Perfect! Many older and more reasonable adults would be there. They walk.   
“What’s your name?” He asks the kid.  
“Oh! I’m Icarus!” Tommy cringes instantly in response. That’s one of those Greek assholes from Technoblade’s books.  
“That’s a shit name! I don’t think I should take you back to the assholes who named you that!”  
“Shut up! You’re old! I bet your name is dumber!”  
Icarus grins wildly when Tommy turns on him in childish anger, “Oi! Tommy is a great name!”  
“More like boring!” 

The bickering doesn’t stop until they reach the village. It felt familiar to argue with someone. In some odd sense, it reminds him of himself and Wilbur. Every time he’s thought of Wilbur as of late, he’s forgone the memories of Wil in Pogtopia. There is no genuine anger in the Wilbur he is choosing to remember. Being called an “insufferable child” brings back good memories. He’s carefully selected to remember his older brother with a kind smile and hilarious comebacks. When he pictures being home amongst his family, it's like Ghostbur and Pogtopia Wilbur never happened. All it is is the sound of a guitar and a wild laugh. All he is is _good_ and _kind_ despite any fighting they may have done. Icarus had been picked up as he’d been by Wil, but there’s no need to think of what Wil would do because the kid actually has parents.

The townspeople are of no help whatsoever. He spends the entire goddamn day looking for his parents, combing the town for people. Nobody even recognizes him. There were never any avian hybrids in town. Nobody came through looking for a missing child. Tommy shoves every red flag to the back of his head and is determined to find his parents.   
“They got names n’ shit?”   
“August and Louisa Bray!”   
“Jesus-Those are some massive fuckin’ dickhead names.”  
With names like that, Tommy can’t imagine they’re very good parents. They sound proper, and this kid is nothing but. He swears too much for being six years old. Who’s named after a _month_? It's stupid to him, truly and deeply.

At least he manages to get his damn horse. That evening when they’re having dinner in the plains, a group of wild horses approaches. Just grazing around, really. Most are a muted grey or muddy brown that doesn’t appeal to Tommy at all. One, though. One stands out to him. Just slightly off-white, with big dark eyes. It looks damn _regal_. He rejoices when he sees she's a girl. This horse is the _perfect_ wife for Mellohi. A whole evening is devoted to earning her trust and saddling her. It is so worth it. Cat is the prettiest lady horse in all the lands. If horses could have royalty, Tommy’s certain she’d be the queen. Icarus cheers him on the whole time. He’d never been this close to a horse. Right before they go to bed, Cat lets Icarus pet her. The sparkle in his eyes makes Tommy smile. 

Morning comes again, Tommy has three days until he has to be home. Finding Icarus’ parents becomes tougher and tougher. Wrangling the boy to sit still on the horse is probably infinitely harder. Both boys lose count of the amount of time Tommy gets smacked in the face by the fledgling’s little wings. They find another village and go through the same routine. Most of the time it feels useless. Gentle arguing becomes routine. They bicker about any subject that arises. The best time of day, the coolest mob, the best woman. It doesn’t matter, they banter back and forth endlessly. Icarus has a habit of tapping little beats on whatever he’s carrying, or whatever he’s stood near. It makes Tommy smile. What the hell is with that?

The blacksmith in this village offers them a room for the night, confessing that he saw two avian hybrids come through. They spoke to no one. They looked happy. As the swaying light of the lantern in their little room flickers, Tommy sits awake and wracks his mind for any reason why they’d smile. One comes to mind, but he can’t bring himself to think about it. Because Icarus is fun. He’s got lots of opinions and is happy to say them to anyone who will listen. Despite the swearing, he’s innocent. He’s a _kid_. Sure, his attitude is fiery, his shouting can get a little tiresome, his wings flap whenever he’s feeling anything which is quite often. All kids have flaws, they don’t know much yet. When they’d been travelling, he picked up songs from the birds. In trees, they’d chirp little tunes to their children. As if on instinct he chirped back. He’s _six_. A _fledgling_. His little wings can’t even flap him off the ground. His-

Leaving him by the ravine, if purposeful, was a deliberate move for his death. Two adult avians could easily fly the small distance. Icarus couldn’t. If he was left there, he was left to die. He feels like throwing up a little bit. Sitting up in their little room, he stares at the tiny lump in the blankets across from him. Too small for six years old. The little grey wings twitch in his sleep. He can’t help reaching a hand over and running it through his soft brown curls. Wilbur said he’d been like this when he found him. Twitchy. _Scared_. Was this like that? Through some sort of magical osmosis, had he become his brother? Was he the big brother now? Taking a drink of water, he puts out the lamp and goes to sleep. 

“Where are we going?” Icarus asks when they head in the opposite direction in the morning.  
“Home,” Tommy says quite plainly like there is no room for discussion.   
Icarus is silent for most of the ride. He does not complain or object once. Tommy didn’t really have a choice here. He couldn’t leave the poor kid with some random villager and wish him the best. Wings require delicate care. Memory of Phil’s wings is enough to give him a basic knowledge of how he’ll have to care for him. His mind _races_ with so many complications and fears. If Dream comes, what becomes of the kid gently petting the horse in front of him? If he goes back, will he have to leave him alone for long? It’s on the back of Cat when it fully settles in that he’s grown up to become his brother. 

It’s more fun than he’s had in a long time. People are a luxury he couldn’t afford, then one dropped into his lap. Icarus and he get along like wildfire. Neither of them thinks before they speak, it leads to pure comedy gold. The stitches in their sides from laughter feel like a reward. The loneliness Tommy wore like a badge fades off him by the time they start approaching the house. Icarus spends all morning on the 9th guessing about what Tommy’s house will look like. Some are outlandish, like a rocket ship or a massive castle. Some are simple, a nice cottage in a small village. Some hurt, like when he laughs to himself before asking if Tommy lives in a dirt shack. When Icarus lights up at the sight of the mountain, Tommy knows he made the right decision. 

The tour is fairly quick. Tommy puts Cat into her stable, introducing Icarus to the other animals. Mellohi adores him. He has some weird kinship with the chickens. Trying to get them to fly, the kid nearly breaks his bandage three times. Icarus buzzes with excitement as they walk up each and every stair. The garden bores him, but the inside of the house is like magic. After Tommy locks his bedroom door, he lets the kid explore. A cake is on the menu. After he’s put the cake in the oven to bake, Icarus bolts back in.   
“This place is huge!” He shouts, but is distracted by the oven, “Is that a cake?”  
“It’s my birthday, a big man has to have a cake.”  
Icarus nearly falls over himself trying to rush over to watch it bake, “How old are you?”  
“Eighteen.”  
With a tiny nod of his head, Icarus asks to go look at the garden. Tommy lets him. It’s obvious he didn’t go to the garden when he returns with a pinecone from the surrounding forest floor. He presents it to Tommy with a proud smile on his face. Rejecting it feels wrong, so he takes it and thanks him. 

They eat cake. Icarus sleeps on the couch for the first two weeks. When his bedroom is done he’s _elated_. It’s not exactly well-furnished yet, but Tommy dyes the sheets blue. He hopes the dye carries its sadness draining properties after it’s used. In Icarus’ eyes, Tommy occasionally catches something terribly sad. The bedsheets are heavy, blue, and softer than his own. He prays the young boy won’t have nightmares under them. The walls are polished stone, the floors are spruce. In the way of decoration, there isn't much. Eventually, they’ll figure something out. Tommy knows that kids need toys, but has no clue where to begin. Enrichment of children seems so out of reach. His family usually let him roam. Sometimes Wilbur would play music for him, Techno would read to him if he was really lucky. Phil, on one special occasion, had taken him to see a desert temple. In the process, he had almost gotten shot by a skeleton twice. Now that he thinks about it, that probably isn’t very good child enrichment. 

He buys him a little drum and a toy sword. Icarus takes to both fairly easily. The drum is good for walks, or when Tommy’s busy doing chores. He chirps like a bird and calls out little songs. The birds in the surrounding forest fly closer to listen. Sometimes Tommy hears them following along. It is a beautiful thing to watch. When he catches it, he slows. Stops just for a moment, and listens. Icarus leads a chorus that mesmerizes the birds. Hums and whistles pretty melodies that make his life-changing decision worth it. There are no words to go along. Once, just one time, he hums the tune of one of Wilbur’s songs. The birds are frightened and stop singing. Icarus plucks the simple tune from the air and sings it loud enough to reach the top of the mountain. Tommy thinks he’s got a sixth sense. That he knows somehow who wrote it, why they did, and that he’ll have to reach the sky to get the message to him. 

He learns a lot about being heard from Icarus. Always has he shouted above crowds, always has he tried to quiet others and never stop to listen. Icarus though, he’s clever. He listens so acutely and responds with too much wit for his age. Spring blooms with life and Icarus tells him about every single new thing he sees.   
“There are mushrooms in the forest now,” Icarus tells him on the 15th of May.  
“Well yeah, it’s the spring!” He responds because mushrooms were never of much use to him.   
It’s only when Icarus runs a little ways away and returns with arms full does he realize that he meant more than that. The mushrooms are always there, he always knew they were there. He never thought to use them for food. On the 16th, Tommy tries his first attempt at making mushroom stew. It isn’t all that bad. 

The more he listens to Icarus, the more he hears. Items that were useless to him prior, find their way into his home. They take a trip to a desert in mid-June. Icarus is marvelled by the sand and the cacti, he waves at husks and laughs when Tommy has to run them through. His cursing never stops, but Tommy finds it funny. Every time they pass a cactus, Icarus’ eyes gleam a bit brighter.   
“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” He asks, and Tommy stares at the huge thing.   
Never once had Tommy looked at the pointy, ugly, too-green-for-his-liking plants and thought they were pretty. But he hears Icarus. The look in his eyes and the tilt in his voice give away his intentions.   
“You can have one for your birthday if you take care of it.” 

His birthday is sooner than expected. July the 14th. He’s made a bigger calendar by now, and he hangs it by the door. Each day is marked off in bright red marker. The day is underlined the moment they get home, and Tommy gets to work. Icarus wants a cactus. That cannot be Tommy’s only gift to him. What a lame birthday that would be! He grabs glowstone to make a special lamp to keep the cactus sunny. He picks up painting and doesn’t tell Icarus why. He lets them make another special trip to the desert. Painting sand is quite literally his worst nightmare, but he makes it work. When he presents all Icarus’ gifts to him for his birthday, he thinks he might have overdone it. A little cactus in a pot, a special lamp to keep it warm, a book on how to care for the little plant, and a painting. Icarus stares at the painting for a long time. Him, sitting in the desert with his little drum. The sun beats down on his wings. 

For the first time, they hug. It’s very quiet. Icarus clutches onto him like a lifeline. Tommy hangs up the painting that night. They eat mushroom stew and cake. Icarus begs Tommy to help him with the big words on the cactus care book. It ends up more like a very strange bedtime story.  
Icarus’ eyes are all droopy, but he smiles as he mutters a soft “Thank you.”  
He’s asleep before Tommy can respond. He instead pulls the blue covers up around the little figure and internally wishes him goodnight. The glowstone lamp now acts as a nightlight. He looks so fucking peaceful. Tommy cleans up, heads to bed, and dreams about another dozen birthdays in this mountain oasis. 

Summer is hot, Tommy can’t thank the mountain chill enough. Once Icarus is seven, he teaches him how to feed to chickens. It works, though he often deviates from the task to chase the birds around the pen with his little wooden sword drawn. He starts wondering if he has to genuinely worry about Icarus becoming a child soldier. Neither admits outwardly they’re attached. Neither admits they’ve gotten close. Tommy...Tommy can’t even bring himself to say the kid's name. He’s “kid” or “child” or “big man”. Not once in these months has Tommy called him by name. It brings up bad memories. He remembers the rare stories of Greek heroes and tragedies that Techno told him. Icarus’ story doesn’t end well. As hard as he tries not to, he often worries about heights. With so many grey feathers on his back, he still can’t fly. Not properly, but he’s trying. He gets very slightly off the ground when July is ending. Tommy prays that he won’t become entranced by the sun. Tommy prays he will never have to see this child hold a real blade. 

Fall starts blowing in early, and Tommy learns how to store vegetables alongside Icarus. With only books from the nearest village and pure determination, they manage to get a good handle on it. Carrots and beets are stored in the cellar, Tommy builds an indoor sugarcane farm to keep their supply going. The potatoes don’t really need to be moved, so he builds a little roof over them and lets them be. Mushroom foraging goes well, they store any they can find. Food will be plentiful and healthy in the winter. Icarus has gained weight since they started living together, the nearby village doctor says he’s much healthier than he was in the spring. Both of them mourn the loss of every flower as they start to wilt. Tommy picks the last pretty ones and makes Icarus a small crown. He wears it until it falls apart. 

Tommy decides in early October to buy a small flock of sheep. He needs more wool for blankets, furniture, and clothes. The barn is lively. Cat and Mellohi now rest in the same stable. It was exciting that finding his horse a wife had worked out so damn well. Icarus shears his first sheep and plays with the pair of lambs that came along with the flock. Tommy asks what Icarus wants from the sheared wool. He asks for a flag like the one over Tommy’s bed. Explaining L’Manberg to a child feels hard. A nation that has its rise and fall with Tommy. A nation he devoted two of his precious lives to. How do you explain something like L’Manberg to a child It goes more simply than he thought.  
“Why do you want a flag you know nothing about?”  
“Well, it’s yours! I want one to match! I’ll start swearing if you don’t make me one, you know!”  
“It’s not mine, really. It’s a country's flag.”

“A country?” He seems more curious than anything, but Tommy bites back a string of frustrated cuss words.  
With a sigh, he responds how he assumes is grown up, “It’s called L’Manberg.”  
“What’s it do?”   
“Wha-It’s a fuckin’ country! What do you think it does!?”  
Icarus thinks for a moment, then grabs his little drum from the side of the stable, “Well, does it have an anthem? I read somewhere that countries are supposed to have anthems!”   
Tommy’s never been a singer, but when he sings the L’manberg national anthem for Icarus, the whole stable quiets. Icarus picks it up after his first time hearing it. The birds around the house start to sing for his faraway nation. That night, when nobody is listening, he clutches all his mementos and he cries.

Even with all the determination Tommy has, he can’t bring himself to make him a L’Manberg flag. They come up with a compromise. Tommy sits him down in the living room with a small box from his closet. He pulls out pictures of himself and Tubbo, and Tubbo’s bandana.  
“Is he from L’Manberg?”  
Icarus’ fascination with L’Manberg was going to make Tommy age thirty years in a single day, “Mhm. The third president, if you can believe it.”  
“Kids can’t be presidents!” Tommy internally grimaces, kids _shouldn’t_ be presidents. Tubbo is.   
“Tubbo’s special.”  
Icarus giggles, then taunts him just a little, “Special to L’Manberg or special to _you_?”  
“Both.” When he says it, he means it.  
He takes Tubbo’s bandana and cuts off two strips. He ties the green fabric around Icarus’ wrist, and Icarus ties his. It’s enough for now. 

In mid-November, Tommy catches Icarus playing with his wooden sword. He’d finished with his chores, just wanting to do some sketching, when he had to stop and listen.   
“They’re coming from the left!” It’s cute to see him playing pretend in the snow, waving his sword and giving orders.   
Icarus uses his wings to push him forwards and backwards, fake-dodging imaginary swords, “Watch out, be ready to attack!”  
“Boom! Whack! Bam! Yeah!” He seems to win and laughs like a maniac.  
“Take that Eret!” Tommy’s brain shuts down, and he stares at Icarus.   
“What are you playing?”  
“L’Manberg!” 

That’s it, Tommy regrets adopting a child. Why did he even make that dumb flag? He’s raising a L’Manberg _fanboy_.   
“Big Man, what is with you and L’Manberg?” He asks but doesn’t expect how Icarus lights up in childlike wonder when he has to answer.  
Icarus rushes over, so quickly that Tommy doesn’t close his book, “It’s so cool! It’s all about freedom and happiness! A place where you can escape to!”  
Tommy just stares at him, Icarus had gleaned all that from the _anthem_. It kills him a little to know what happened and watch a bright-eyed child become inspired by L’Manberg.  
“Can I go there someday?” Icarus asks after Tommy is quiet for too long.   
“It-You-” Tommy stares at him, he can’t bring himself to say no, “I’ll look into it, okay?”   
The young boy cheers and goes back to playing. With a quick look down, he sees his page wide open. He draws himself back then, standing proudly with Wilbur and Tubbo. It’s not really his home anymore. 

He’s been drawing himself recently. As the two-year mark dawns on Tommy, he starts drawing people _together_. Him and Tubbo. Wilbur and Niki. Techno and Phil. Fundy and Ranboo. Big Q and Karl. He picks up a book on greek mythology from the neighbouring village and reads the entirety of Theseus’ story. Alongside, he reads Icarus’ tale. It makes him sad. More than anything, the fact that in some way Theseus and Icarus are intrinsically connected by the labyrinth hurts him. Theseus doesn’t stick around to rescue Daedalus and Icarus, which makes him a bit of a prick in Tommy’s eyes. When Icarus flies too close to the sun and his wax wings melt, it is because of the asshole who put them there and the asshole who failed to save them. He draws himself next to Techno, and writes in ‘Theseus is a prick, you piggy bastard.’ 

Tommy doesn’t notice when one busy morning his book moves from one spot on the table to another. Icarus is quiet that day. He spends most of it in his room, Tommy gives him space. Making dinner is simple, it’s quiet. He’s cooking a stew, a staple dish of their household. Little footsteps approach and sit at the table.   
“Evening big man, how was your-” Tommy turns and sees his drawing book flipped open to the drawing of him and Techno.   
Icarus looks at the thing very sadly, Tommy grabs it and shuts it, “We’ve talked about privacy, big man.”  
Tommy tries to make eye contact with the kid, but he avoids it, “You had a family, didn’t you?”   
“What?” It’s an unwelcome shock to his system to hear Icarus ask hard questions like this.   
“A family. Who loved you.”   
“I...I did.”

Icarus gets angry at that, and Tommy can’t tell what’s wrong, “You left them?”  
“I had to.” It’s a complicated issue that he can’t explain to a seven-year-old.   
Tears start rolling down the young boy's cheeks, “You didn’t have to! Why would you leave them behind!?”   
Tommy is stuck between wanting to help and wanting to scream about everything he’d been through, with a raised voice he nearly shouts, “It was to protect them!”  
He watches Icarus go completely silent, frustrated and confused tears come in heavy waves and force down any noise of crying. When he speaks again, Tommy regrets having raised his voice.  
“Right. My mom and dad left me at that ravine to protect me.”  
He has to look away because the kid looks so damn sad, “You know that’s different.”

Icarus shouts, trying desperately to be heard, “How!? How is it different!? You don’t leave people who love you! Is the guy in the picture Theseus? He’s greek right? Like my name? Is he why you won’t even call me by my name!?”  
He’s right, Tommy knows he’s right. It’s not fair to Icarus, and not fair to himself. He sits beside him and takes a deep breath. He’s not spoken these words aloud in nearly two years.   
“ _I_ was Theseus.”   
Flipping open his book, Tommy points to the page with his little message, “He called me Theseus. His name is Technoblade.”  
Icarus leans into his shoulder as he talks, he looks over the drawing as if it were going to come to life. “I was...pretty fiery. Fought whoever looked at me wrong. I wanted...I wanted to be a hero. He was my older brother. As much as we fought, I looked up to him.”  
He flips the page to a drawing of his entire family and points at each figure as he speaks, “This is Phil, my dad, and my other older brother, Wilbur.”  
The mood lightens, Icarus runs his fingers over Wilbur’s face, “Like from L’Manberg?”  
“Yeah, he’s the guy.”

He places the book in Icarus’ little hands and moves back to watch their meal cook.  
“Who was Theseus?”  
With a sigh, Tommy thinks of the most child-friendly but still honest rendition, “A hero, technically. Was probably a big ol’ prick. There was a monster in a big maze, and people got sacrificed to it.”  
Tommy watches Icarus flip through the pages and stares at each new face, “And he stopped the monster?”  
“Mhm. Became a king after, but he got exiled from his land.”   
“And...Did he die?”  
Hurt fills Tommy because he senses the kid isn’t just talking about Theseus from the story, “The king he stayed with in his exile shoved him off a cliff. He got betrayed.” 

“Are you still Theseus?” Icarus asks him.  
He’s turned and watching the stew, his eyes brim with tears that he quickly blinks away, “God, I hope not.”   
They eat dinner in complete silence, right next to each other. Tommy eats slower, Icarus waits dutifully until he’s done. When the dishes are done, when it’s all cleaned up, Icarus tugs the edge of his jacket and pulls Tommy away from the house. Up the stairs to the garden, up the stairs to the peak. He’s confused. Icarus bristles under the cold, Tommy drapes his jacket over his shoulders. It’s too big for him by a long shot.   
“Jump.” The boy demands and Tommy’s expression gives away his shock.   
“Excuse me?” 

“I’ll catch you.”  
Instinctively, Tommy grabs his wrist and pulls him away from the end of the bridge, “You can’t-”  
“I can! My wings are strong! I can-I can catch you!”  
“Kid-” He’s started crying again, this time _hysterically_.   
“Tommy I can catch you! I can! I promise! I promise I can catch you-”  
“Icarus!” Tommy shouts, and Icarus stops, taking a shaky breath and starting to sob.  
Tommy’s at his level now. He wipes the tears from Icarus’ cheeks. His big dark eyes are red and puffy from all his crying. When he wraps his arms around the boy and draws him in for a hug, it feels natural. One of his hands rests between Icarus’ shoulder blades and keeps a tight grip, the other rests softly on the back of his head. 

It takes a few minutes for the boy to calm down. Tiny arms clutch onto him like a lifeline.  
“Do you know the story of your name?”  
Icarus shakes his head no, Tommy hums softly and whispers out the tale.   
“He wanted to fly, so his dad made him wings. There was one rule to flying, he couldn’t go too close to the sun.”  
Sniffling out, Icarus mutters, “But...he didn’t listen?”   
“No, he didn’t. His wings got burnt, and he fell into the ocean and died.”  
Pulling back from the hug, Tommy takes Icarus’ face in his hands and looks him in the eyes, “You’re much too small to carry me, Icarus. Trying would be like going too close to the sun.”  
Icarus uses Wil’s jacket to wipe his face of tears and snot, “Are all the greek stories sad?”

Tommy can’t help but let out a little laugh at how _childish_ that little motion was, he explains through a smile, “Technoblade told me that all greek stories are supposed to teach us lessons.”  
“Don’t fall? That’s the lesson?” Sass returns to Icarus’ tone in an instant and Tommy laughs again.  
“Not really. More like...don’t reach too far.” He explains, Icarus nods very solemnly, letting the exhaustion from crying overwhelm him.  
“Stay safe…”   
“Yeah, stay safe.”  
He carries the tired kid inside and puts him to bed, humming the tune of L’Manberg’s national anthem to get him to rest.

On the second anniversary of his leaving, he is teaching his kid how to fly. He’s getting better by the day. Icarus climbs up trees like he’s born to do it, and from the bottom branches he extends his wings and floats down. It’s a simple start. He doesn’t reach too far, it is safe. While he’s watching over the gently floating boy, he mutters to himself. Sunlight rushes through the breaks in branches, he breathes in deep.  
“My name is Tommy Innit. I am not alone. I am safe.”   
Icarus cheers, “Dad! Did you see that!?”  
“I did! Very pogchamp!”  
When Icarus smiles and immediately tries again, he feels one thought come to him and warm his body and his soul. ‘Things will be okay’. He adds it to the mantra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I didn't expect it to be this long, but I'm still really proud of it! Let me know what you think! <3


	3. It's Unspoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all fine and dandy until Tommy accidentally picks up a teenager on what was supposed to be a routine road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes canon-typical violence and canon-typical amounts of traumatized teenagers. Enjoy <3

Icarus picks up flying before spring starts. He spends the first warm mornings of late February flying around waving his L’Manberg flag. Tommy finds the thing almost everywhere. It slowly becomes a game of hide-and-seek. Icarus will take the flag and place it somewhere around their steadily growing base, Tommy will search for it after the day's chores are done. Amongst the other games Icarus has invented, it’s the most wholesome. One game he likes to play is shouting back and forth. That’s all there is to the game, like a vulgar form of marco polo. Tommy’s never been more glad to not have visitors because a child screaming curses at the top of his lungs and expecting to be cursed at in return is not particularly good evidence as to why someone should be allowed to have a child. 

Despite being an impudent child, Icarus takes well to chores. He still loves the chickens, and he’s learnt how to help out with feeding them. When Tommy has to shear the sheep he takes care of the lambs, who are growing possibly faster than he is. Caring for the horses is easiest because Cat has decided that she prefers Icarus over Tommy any day. His son adores the elegant lady and coos at her stable any chance he gets. Both of them are entirely too stubborn. Too much sass and deviance. He feels like they need adult supervision, but at this point, Tommy _is_ the adult supervision. It’s strange to him, but yes he _is_ the one who has to tell this kid he can't stand behind the horse.

If he could get one wish, it would be to be able to adventure more. Though he’d never trade his home and his steadily growing little family for anything, he misses the occasional long outing. He’d rather die than leave Icarus alone at the house when so many complications could arise. Bringing him along doesn’t seem like the greatest idea. Putting children in potentially life-threatening situations is not how he thinks a proper father figure should behave. He realizes the irony of that statement because all his older family members let him be a child soldier. He’s not them though, he reminds himself of this a lot. 

After a while, it’s obvious Tommy is antsy, and Icarus nearly begs him for a road trip. They pack up the horses, set up systems to feed the animals, and hit the road. They don’t really have a destination. Tommy has a list of biomes he would like supplies from, and if they come across them they’ll hit them. A jungle for cocoa beans, because he desperately misses chocolate. A flower forest, for types of wildflowers you can’t buy seeds for in the villages. A mesa for terracotta and hardened clay, they’re a bitch to collect and they’ll look good in any new rooms he adds to the house. A savannah for acacia wood. It’s mostly forested areas. They roast chicken over their campfire and look up through the leaves to stare at the stars. 

Icarus takes good care of Cat, she listens to him dutifully. Mellohi is sweet on Tommy, letting him know he still has one loyal horse. Most of the day, Icarus will fly instead of ride, but she’s there for whenever he gets tired. While outside, they play lots of road trip games. I Spy becomes a favourite because Icarus has such good vision that it ends up trolling Tommy multiple times. A rule has to be added that Icarus can’t pick something that’s forty feet away.   
“I Spy...something grey!” Icarus calls, staring straight ahead.  
Tommy squints and sees the outline of the village, “Uh, cobblestone?”  
The shapes of the houses are strange, Tommy’s not seen them before.   
“Nope!”  
“Cobblestone stair-” They got close enough that Tommy can make out why the village is draped in grey.   
He’s seen the aftermath of a fire before. Ash and soot settle on the ground, the buildings are deformed and the wooden bits are gone. 

“Icarus, stop.” He reaches over and grabs Cat’s reins, she stops.   
The boy looks more confused than panicked, “What? What’s wrong?”  
“Something bad happened in that village, I’ll go take a look. You stay here.”  
Tommy ties Mellohi and Cat up by the nearby forest, Icarus sits and waits patiently. As Tommy draws his sword and approaches, Icarus watches the woods. Tommy’s gone now, and he’s left to protect the horses. He’ll be back after he looks at the village. Bushes rustle, Icarus draws his little wooden sword. Any monsters dwelling in the forest would meet his wrath. He technically didn’t know how to fight, but that wouldn’t stop him. Horses can’t hold swords, so he has to take care of them. 

A flash of dark purple moves through the bushes, Icarus points his wooden sword at the beast. Was it an enderman? He’d never even seen one of those.   
“Who’s there?” He asks, the rustling stops.   
A tuft of blonde hair and two bright blue eyes appear from behind a tree.  
“Are you okay?” The blonde person asks him, and he nods.   
“My dad’s looking at the village, says something bad happened.” From behind the tree, the figure appears, pulling a half-face mask over his face.   
“It burnt down.” He says quietly, Icarus looks him over.   
He’s a little grimy, his large purple jacket with red striped sleeves being covered in ash. The mask catches Icarus’ attention, it’s sort of fox shaped. White with small red markings. It covers up his blue eyes.  
“I like your mask!” Icarus chirps because he does! It’s very pretty.

Icarus watches the boy struggle to take the compliment, then mutter out, “Thanks. I’ll wait with you until your dad gets back, just in case of danger.”  
“Danger?” His little eyes light up at the prospect, and the teen smirks.   
“There were some raiders around, they’re like...bad guys or something.”  
The teenager draws a sword, dazzling blue and _diamond_. There is a soft purple fabric tied around the handle and a little bell on the end.   
“My dad has a sword too, he might think you’re dangerous.”  
With a shrug, the older scoffs, “Tell him I’m not.”   
That’s the end of the conversation. The teenager doesn’t hurt him or the horses, he just waits. When Tommy sees some stranger standing with him though, he darts for Icarus.

“Hey! Bitch! Fuck off!” He waves his sword, but the stranger raises his sword in return.  
The teenager looks between Icarus and Tommy, “This is your dad?”  
“Mhm!”   
A look is shared between the excited Icarus and the confused teenager, “He’s only like...sixteen!”   
“I’m eighteen you fuckin’ prick! You’re the sixteen-year-old!” Tommy gets in the face of the stranger, putting himself between Icarus and the sword-wielding threat.  
“I’m thirteen, asshole!” They both ignore Icarus’ chants of _‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’_  
Tommy has to stop because that’s not a threat, that’s a kid. Barely a teenager, definitely not old enough to be alone. The teenager gives Tommy a shove, in return Tommy sheaths his sword.   
“Either way, I’m not leaving a little kid alone with some guy who's barely older than me!”  
He thinks about it for a second. He can’t send the kid away, he doesn’t trust Icarus to be safe. The kid clearly has morals and can use a sword. If he stays, he could be a helpful asset.  
Untying Mellohi, Tommy hops onto the horse and starts leading Cat and Icarus away, “Fine!”   
The boy runs to keep up with the horses, “Fine!”

That’s how they meet Charlie. They don’t end up learning his name until two days later when Icarus drags it out of him through a series of extremely annoying means. He ends up being useful to their little team. To the west of the burnt-down village is a fairly large jungle biome, and when Icarus sees it he lights up. While the older two collect cocoa beans, Icarus squawks at the parrots and _begs_ Tommy for them. Like the little cactus in his room, dutifully named Michael, Tommy says he can have one for his birthday. This time it’s a lie. Tommy already has ten loud winged creatures in the house. Between Icarus and the chickens, he couldn’t keep up. Wild birds fly overhead, they decide to spend a night in the jungle. Icarus sings the L’Manberg anthem to the parrots. At this rate, Tommy thinks he’ll indoctrinate every biome’s birds. 

They stop by the nearby village on the way home, Charlie rests his hand on the hilt of his sword the whole time. Each adult who passes gets a thorough grimace directed their way. It becomes apparent that he’s a talented fighter when a man accuses him of stealing. The large man grabs Charlie by the wrist and starts to yell. In a quick movement, Charlie elbows the man's upper arm to regain his wrist and draws his weapon. Tommy reassures the merchant he didn’t steal but marvels silently at his technique.   
“Who taught you how to fight?” He asks when they’re almost home, and watches as Charlie looks away.  
“Just...learnt, I guess.” The conversation stops there, Tommy thinks about how he learned to fight.   
It was a necessity for him, and it must have been for Charlie too. Nobody lives in the wreckage of a burnt down village without some reason to stay. 

Chickens cluck at their return before they’re even close enough to see the house. Icarus flaps himself off of his horse in excitement and flies as fast as he can up to the front door. It’s a long walk, Tommy puts the horses into the stable and lets them rest. The chickens beg for his attention and he gives it to them. When he starts the way up the stairs, Charlie stands awkwardly at the bottom.   
“You coming?” Tommy asks, and Charlie looks away.   
The air is getting chilly, and Charlie tucks his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, “I’m not gonna take up your resources. I’m just watching the kid.”  
Tommy gives him a gentle look, “It gets cold.”  
Empathy floods Tommy because he knows exactly what Charlie’s thought process is. In his mind, he needs no help. He’s a lone wolf. The similarity between Charlie and himself scares him just a little. Softly, he moves to put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder and gently nudge him.   
“C’mon, big man. Up you get.”   
Charlie walks the stairs followed by Tommy’s watchful eye. 

The next morning, Tommy makes breakfast for the kids to wake up to. The mix of shock and confusion on Charlie’s face when he wakes up somewhere warm, soft, and safe, makes Tommy feel like he’s done the right thing. It feels even better when Icarus starts to get attached. Icarus sits him up and brings him food because he’s learning about ‘hospitality’. He sits in front of the couch and colours as he eats. Tommy starts construction on the indoor area for his cocoa bean farm, Icarus drags Charlie outside to show him how to feed the chickens and introduces him to the sheep. Tommy can hear their occasional bickering while he works. They sound like brothers. In the afternoon he heads out to check on them, and Icarus is teaching him about L’Manberg. 

“So, it’s a story?” Charlie asks, and Tommy laughs when Icarus smacks Charlie for it.  
“No! It’s real!” With a pout, Icarus turns and shouts, “Dad! Charlie thinks L’Manberg is fake!”  
“Nah, it’s real.”  
Tommy expects the teen to not have as much passion or willingness to believe, but his expression softens, “It sounds nice.”  
“It is nice! There was this guy, Wilbur Soot, and he _made_ L’Manberg! Did you know you can do that? You can just make a country!” Icarus shouts, grabbing Charlie by the head and shaking him.  
“We could make our own.”  
The scandalized look on Icarus’ face kills Tommy with laughter, “We’d never make something as badass as L’Manberg!”   
Icarus takes it upon himself to teach Charlie the L’Manberg game. He gets invested in the role of King Eret. Tommy sits and draws them. When Charlie manages to pin Icarus during their playfight, he grins for the first time. Tommy’s pen has never moved faster in his life. 

Tommy knows he’s a good kid. He’s got secrets. Something terrible happened to him, Tommy can tell. They all know Charlie is a flight risk. Every so often they’ll say something, and Charlie will move instinctively to the door. He spends a lot of time in the garden. Tommy catches him sitting and staring at the flowers. Sometimes, back at his old home, he’d sit like that. On his bench, with music playing. In his heart, he knows he can’t let Charlie leave. This kid, while not as young as Icarus, is still young. He deserves somewhere nice to call home. The first thing Tommy builds for him is a jukebox and a bench. He spends far too many emeralds buying him a trio of music discs. The bench is built out of oak, an homage to his home. At the start of the second week, Tommy wakes up to the sound of music playing. Charlie meanders his way down for breakfast, he wastes no time asking what he’s been wanting to since he decided to let him stay.   
“What colour walls do you want in your room?”

He ends up picking smooth stone walls and dark oak floors. He’s got a huge rug made out of the same dark purple material as his jacket. Tommy insists on making one side of the boy's comforter blue. Using the heavier material, he efforts to make the thing as _comforting_ as possible. He even buys a little white stuffed fox for him. Charlie treats it like a gag gift, but Tommy catches the way he pets the fabric as if it’s the softest thing he’s ever touched. Icarus begs him for a stuffed animal as well, and Tommy buys him a bright red parrot, like from the jungle. Icarus makes Charlie have a sleepover with him one night and insists on naming their little stuffed pets.   
“It needs a name, Charlie! You wouldn’t just forget to name your fuckin’ child, would you?”  
“I guess...I like the name Evangeline?”   
Midnight rolls past, Tommy checks on the boys. Icarus is curled up with Charlie, but both boys keep a tight hold on their little stuffed friends. 

Plants grow alongside Charlie’s trust in Tommy during the spring. Their vegetables and fruits grow in abundance. Charlie shows him how to make pumpkin pie on his nineteenth birthday. The kitchen is a mess, but he cracks a smile when Tommy drops an egg on the floor and curses wildly. Icarus and Charlie play any games they can find. Charlie picks up reading and goes through every book they have. Things are going well. Summer is on its way in, and everything changes.   
“Dad! Can I look at your drawing book?” The youngest calls from his bedroom.  
Tommy’s at the stove, “The one with my family in it?”  
“Mhm!”  
Charlie raises an eyebrow in interest, and Icarus bounds into the room carrying the room. He shoves his way onto the couch beside Charlie.   
“Ready to see something _cool_?” When Charlie nods, Icarus cheers. 

Icarus flips one of the pages open to a drawing of Wilbur, pointing happily at him, “This is Wilbur Soot, president of L’Manberg. He’s Tommy’s big brother! And the fuckin’ coolest!”   
He moves onto the next page, “This is Tubbo, the guy from the pictures! He’s the new president of L’Manberg.”  
“Is he cool?” Charlie asks, knowing what the answer will be.  
“Not really, but Dad likes him.” Tommy rolls his eyes in the kitchen.   
Sticking out his tongue, Icarus focuses and looks through the pages. He stops on one, and Charlie’s light-hearted expression falters.   
“This is Philza Minecraft, Dad’s dad.”  
All he does is nod, there’s something very _very_ strange in his eyes. When the next page is chosen, his blood runs cold. Charlie has only ever heard of one Piglin in a crown.  
“And this is his other older brother, Technoblade!” 

When his things start migrating from around the house to in his room, Tommy gets concerned. It’s gradual. His books disappear from the big shelf in the living room. The music discs leave their special compartment by the bench. The diamond sword he brought is never left with the other weapons. Going to bed early in early July was a terrible decision. Icarus shakes him awake just past midnight. Tommy wakes quickly, reaching for his sword in case of emergency. He’s met with a teary-eyed child.   
“Charlie’s gone!” He moves forward and wipes the tears away.  
“He’s...Hold on big man, calm down. Take a big breath.” Icarus breathes in deep, Tommy coaches him through it.   
“I looked everywhere and I couldn't find him! It’s all my fault!” The boy isn’t hyperventilating anymore, but he’s still completely shaken.  
“Hey, hey, it isn’t _anybody’s_ fault. Do you want me to go look for him?”  
Icarus sniffles and nods, wiping his face with his shirt sleeve, “Okay, I’ll be right back, I promise. Stay right here, big man.” 

The second he’s out of the room, he’s in a race against time. Charlie couldn’t have made it far, he’s only been asleep a few hours. He’ll take Mellohi and get there fast. He doesn’t even bother getting dressed. With his boots on and his sword on his hip, he’s out the door and on his horse in minutes. He follows the footsteps left behind and catches up to him after a gruelling thirty minutes of searching in the dark. The boy’s holding a torch in one hand and his sword in the other. His bag is filled to the brim, and on his hip, he’s attached the snow-white fox, Evangeline.   
“Where do you think you’re going?”  
Charlie _whips_ around and points his sword directly at Tommy, “You can’t stop me.”  
“I can and I will, where do you think you’re going?” The kid isn’t stupid enough to think he’d let a thirteen-year-old wander off into the woods at night.   
“I don’t know! Just...away! _Far_ away!” He tries to storm off, but Tommy brings Mellohi up in front of Charlie.   
He stares at the eyes of the fox mask Charlie’s equipped, “Wh-I thought you liked it here!”

“I do!” He pleads, his whole body reads as tense.  
“Then why the fuck are you leaving?”  
Silence fills the forest. They’re at a standstill for a long time. Night wind rustles the trees and leaves both teenagers on alert.   
“Your brother...He’s uh…” Charlie’s shoulders cave in and his voice is barely above a whisper.  
“I-Okay you’re being _real_ confusing, cut to it.”  
With his grip tightening on his sword, he gets jumpier at every sound. “If he came looking for you, I’d be in trouble.”  
Tommy’s barely got a hold of what’s going on, “Wha-What are you talking about!?”  
“I’m an orphan.”  
In a single second, the reason for his fear crashes down on him. It _crushes_ the air from Tommy’s lungs. Do they tell children about Techno? Do they tell orphans that he’ll hurt them? It’s so fucked up, Tommy’s head spins trying to imagine what could compel an adult to tell that to a child. 

“He’s not, big man, he’s not gonna kill you.” When Charlie shudders at his words it basically confirms that to be true.  
“How do _you_ know that?” He shouts, and Tommy hops off Mellohi to speak to him face to face.  
“You’ve got a family,” Tommy says without thinking because really, it’s obvious to him.   
Charlie’s jaw tightens and his voice shakes as he points his sword against Tommy’s chest, “Open your fucking ears you old dickbag! What part of ‘I’m an orphan’ don’t you understand!?”  
“You _have_ a family,” He responds with gentleness, pushing the blade away from him, “If you want it.”  
Tears roll down from underneath the fox mask, he holds the sword limply. The torch he’s holding is blown out by a gust of wind. It clatters to the ground as his knees shake and send him along with it. Charlie _sobs_ and Tommy meets him on the grass, staining the knees of his white pants green. With a care Tommy wishes he’d been shown as a scared teenager, he guides Charlie’s head to rest on his shoulder and wraps his arms around his shoulders. 

He falls asleep on Tommy, and Tommy is so, so careful when he rides home on Mellohi and carries him up the steps. Icarus is waiting at the door with a red face and a glass of water. Tommy tucks Charlie into his bed, and Icarus crawls in after him.   
“Is he okay?” Whispers the tinier of the two boys, resting his head gently on the bigger’s chest.  
“He’s sad, I think. And scared.”   
“Of what?”  
“Technoblade,” Icarus nods a little, Tommy sits by the bed and runs a hand through his hair, “Do me a favour, big man, and try not to mention him around your brother, will ya’?”   
He presses a kiss to Icarus’ temple, and puts a gentle hand on Charlie’s cheek, “Sleep well, boys.”   
Tommy puts out all the lights and goes to bed. In the morning, Icarus helps Charlie put all his things back. They cut Charlie a strip from Tubbo’s bandana and tie it safely around his wrist.

For Icarus’ birthday, they take a trip to the desert. He begs for sword lessons from Charlie, Tommy says he has to wait until he gets older. Charlie suggests he teach him how to shoot a bow. These kids are full of surprises because when Tommy questions his skill, Charlie hits a husk from nearly fifty feet away. Icarus begs for his own bow, and Charlie promises to teach him how to use it right. The cacti in the nearby desert are demolished by the time dinner rolls around. They eat mushroom stew again, a slowly forming tradition. With how prosperous the cocoa bean farm was, Tommy was easily able to make Icarus a chocolate cake. Nothing has ever gone quicker. Tommy had forgotten how much he loved chocolate. 

Teaching seems to be well within Charlie’s skill set. Before summer ends, Icarus is acceptable with a bow. Tommy watches to ensure he isn’t hard on Icarus, but he watches the opposite unfold. Icarus’s determination is one thing, but Charlie’s patience with younger kids is another. Maybe he’d taken care of younger kids before? It’s not too much of a stretch. Tommy and Charlie could still beat him at shooting an arrow any day, but he’s getting the hang of it. He’ll occasionally get a bullseye and throw himself up into the air. Beating his wings like a drumming motion and soaring through the sky. He’s gotten so much better at soaring like that. The crow’s wings on his back are still their juvenile colour, they suit him well. 

Tommy doesn’t realize that Icarus will probably molt in the fall until it’s too late. It had been a calm morning. September was nearing a close and they had everything checked off on their to-do list for winter. The older two were making breakfast, talking about what they’d be doing today, it’s average. Until they hear the shriek. Both bolt down the hall to Icarus’ room without a word between them. Amongst the blue bed sheets were a handful of his soft grey feathers. Charlie stares in concern and shock, but Tommy nearly smacks himself. How could he forget? His first molt was something he’d forgotten to anticipate.  
“My feathers! My feathers! Look! They’re falling out!” He cries, running to Tommy and pointing vigorously at the feathers.   
“You’re fine, Icarus, you’re okay!” Tommy leans down and ruffles his hair, “Your feathers got worn out, you’re gonna grow some new ones.”  
“I don’t want new feathers! I want _these_ feathers!” It’s clear he’s angry, which is understandable, he never thought he’d have to lose them.   
Charlie sighs and defuses the situation in an instant, “Maybe your new feathers will be bigger. Then you can be faster and stronger.” 

The hope that his wings will get bigger and stronger resolves the tension until Icarus realizes he won’t be able to fly for around a month. He spends the first week moping around and being extensively clingy with Charlie. Tommy ends up teaching Charlie how to preen the feathers from his wings, and it’s calming. Music plays through the house, the boys sit together and hum along as they gently clean the wings of any loose feathers. They’re very close and Tommy can’t help but wonder about what their families there like. Icarus told him about his mom and dad, but did he have an older sibling he looked up to? Did Charlie lose a little sibling and decide to adopt the next child he saw? However intriguing it is, Tommy knows not to bring up such delicate subjects. He watches them help each other heal. Just seeing the peace he’s achieved out here helps him. 

On October 3rd, Charlie turns fourteen. He swears up and down he doesn’t want anything. Tommy and Icarus won’t accept that. They team up and get him two more music discs and another nice jacket, this one made of solid white fabric with the same red stripes down the sleeves. The three of them bake cookies together for desert, Icarus and Charlie get into an argument over how many chocolate chips to include. Tommy is so glad he has this. There is nothing he would trade for this. He trusts these children, _his_ children, with his life.

But, there are things that go on in the house that the boys hide from their father. If things are broken, they are fixed before Tommy finds out. If a chicken gets out, she’s found before any harm can come to her. If a fight gets out of hand, Charlie fixes it by sneaking around at night and baking his little brother cookies. Those are the light-hearted secrets. The cold of December rolls in. They rely on their sadder secrets. Some nights, you cannot go to the man who helped you. You look up to him too much. So, when nightmares of ravines and burning villages have them waking up crying, they go to each other. Icarus clutches onto his older brother and begs him not to leave him. He needs him to stay, and he does. Before he even tells Tommy where he came from, he lets his brother know. 

He’d been left in that forest, and his parents had flown over the ravine. He tried to find a way over all day before he tried to fly. He never had any siblings, never really any friends. Picking up swearing from the vulgar townsfolk in his home village. When he imagines what he’d miss when the nightmares make him cry, it isn’t his birth parents who leave him, it’s his new little family. Charlie holds him, they hide under the blue comforters and cry. 

When Charlie wakes up and screams for someone called Evangeline to run, Tommy doesn’t hear. Icarus does. He makes his way to his brother’s room and asks him all about Evangeline. She had hair the colour of oak tree bark. Her eyes looked like algae on a pond. She loved ducks and pretty dresses. Her favourite colour was pastel yellow. She picked the fox mask for him after he’d scrounged up enough money to go buy them some new things. When she would laugh his day would brighten. Charlie had looked after her since she was a baby. Charlie had watched her get taken from him. He never tells Icarus directly that Evangeline was his little sister, but he picks it up from the clues that are given to him. 

These have been occurrences since summer. The newest secrets are barely spoken. In the freezing of December, the townsfolk in the village nearby want to set off fireworks to celebrate the solstice. Tommy takes them. Icarus has never seen fireworks before. Charlie takes them up a nearby hill so they won’t be too close to the other people. Except for the large man who’s always hated Charlie. When Charlie slams his fist into the guy's face for following them and there is a loud crack they’re certain aren’t from fireworks, they don’t tell Tommy. When Charlie takes it much too far and kicks bruises into the man’s stomach, they don’t tell Tommy. 

“I’m sorry,” Charlie whispers as the man runs away.  
Icarus stares at his brother, reaching out to touch his shaking hands, “It’s...It’s okay.”  
He lets Icarus look them over, “You must have been scared.”   
“I wasn’t.” It’s only partially a lie, he knew Charlie wouldn’t let him get hurt.  
“I just...I get angry sometimes. With adults. Never you.”  
“Why?” Icarus always asks questions, and Tommy isn’t around so...he answers.  
Charlie whispers their most delicate secret yet to Icarus, who only nods.  
“You must be scared.”  
“It’s been going on for years, it’s not as scary anymore.”

They move closer to the top of the hill and they sit together, finding their dad isn’t their top priority at the moment.  
“Did Dad teach you his mantra yet?” The younger asks, watching the preparation down in the village below.   
“No, what is it?”  
“I would say it as: My name is Icarus Innit, I am not alone, I am safe. Things will be okay.”  
The first firework goes off, illuminating the sky. It is magnificent and purple. Icarus shouts in excitement.  
Under the noise, the mantra is spoken, “My name is Charlie Dreyer, I am not alone, I am safe. Things will be okay.”

Mesmerized Icarus snaps out of it and smacks Charlie in the arm, “Wha-Wait, why aren’t you an Innit?”  
“If it bothers you that much, I can hyphenate it. Dreyer-Innit.”  
Two more fireworks go off, one gold and one red, before they hear their father running up the hill behind them, “Boys! I told you two not to get lost! You scared the fuck out of me!”  
“Sorry, dad!” They say in unison.   
“We didn’t mean to get lost, we just wanted a better view,” Charlie excuses, it isn’t entirely untrue. 

It’s unspoken what happened that night. Icarus holds Charlie’s hand to hide his bloody knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I love to hear any and all thoughts on my work, so feel free to leave a comment! <3


	4. You Truly Are A Beautiful Creature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first family trip to the Nether goes about how you'd expect it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes more canon-typical traumatized people and canon-typical violence. Hope you all enjoy <3

Gleaming in the white light of winter is the shine of Tommy’s first enchanted item in a long time. The Friendship sword, now enchanted to the max, shimmers in pretty purples. When the boys see an enchanted netherite sword for the first time they go _mental_. Charlie shows genuine child-like excitement for the very first time, Icarus hits his head on the ceiling from accidental hovering. Tommy and Charlie spar in the snow, and Tommy’s got a bit of an unfair advantage. He’s smart, so he spends time mining now that Icarus can be watched. He’ll mine a day straight and come back to an excited Icarus and a tuckered out Charlie. Each time he apologizes vehemently to his older son, because he doesn’t want to become his father. Wilbur had gotten so tired after watching Tommy. Charlie assures him each time that he’s being over-protective. 

His worries wash away when he presents each boy with their own set of diamond armour. Icarus reaches out to gently touch the material like it’ll fade away under his fingers. Charlie rejects the set four whole times before finally taking it. Tommy promises the boys more family adventures when spring comes. Skill with a bow is coming more clearly to Icarus, who manages to hit more bullseyes than he misses the target. Come March they should be a well-oiled trio. The older two pretend that Icarus isn’t a bit of dead weight, his happiness is a priority. 

Tommy forgets so often that his children have not seen much of the world yet. In March, Tommy tries their first caving expenditure. During the weeks before, he cleared the cave system of all the monsters and lit it all up with torches. He left every piece of ore untouched. Despite it being underground and far from his natural habitat of the sky, Icarus goes _wild_ in the cave. He isn’t big enough to wield a pickaxe, so Charlie and Tommy have to help him when he decides he wants a go. As they venture further down, the sounds of bubbling lava and approaching heat make the younger two stop in their tracks. 

They’ve never seen _lava_ before. He reminds Icarus time and time again not to touch it. When the boys “find” diamonds, it’s momentous. Tommy smiles and helps Charlie get the precious gems. After a long discussion, the boys decide to save the gems. It’s obvious that Charlie will miss the adventure most. He runs his fingers over the stone walls in the firelit cave as they leave, looking back wistfully. Secretly, Tommy offers Charlie their own adventure, just the two of them. The deal is put on the back burner, he says he’ll have to think about it. A new fascination of the children was the bubbling pools of lava in caves. Tommy buys them a book from the village all about the world and its resources.

Now, he has a good memory, but apparently not good enough to remove the Nether section of the book before he hands it over.   
“Dad!” Icarus shouts, calling him over to look at a drawing in the book, “You’ve never told me about this place!”   
Netherrack hills and treacherous lava falls, the Nether Wastes shine on the glossy white paper. He remembers the time he spent there, begging to go home one way or another. His exile is something he hasn’t thought of in a while. The glint of Dream’s netherite armour flashes into his mind, he plucks the book from Icarus’ grasp.  
“We’re not allowed to go there,” Tommy states, leaving no room for argument.   
“Wha-But it’s pretty! We just need obsidian and-”  
“No. We are not going to the Nether and that is _final_.” He leaves the boy pouting and hides the book in his closet. 

It isn’t final at all. Icarus begs him for weeks, even promises Tommy he’ll hold his hand the whole time and won’t wander off. Charlie even offers to find a way to get Icarus a leash backpack to keep him in line. He doesn’t want them to think he’s a hypocrite, he’s obviously been before, but it brings back bad memories. Even then, a portal could lead Dream to them. They make a deal, if the boys can handle a one week trip both ways to place a portal, Tommy will let them go to the Nether. It’s a damn shame that the whole family is stubborn. Through two weeks of varying weather conditions and biomes, they travel. Regret seeps out of every inch of Tommy, but he’s going to be safe. Sitting softly in his inventory are fourteen blocks of TNT. Once both boys are back through after the trip, Tommy plans to blow the portal sky high. 

Scalding heat hits them before they’re even completely through, alarming Charlie and confusing Icarus.   
“Jesus christ, is it always this hot here?” The older asks, removing his jacket and tying it around his waist.   
“Big man, the entire fuckin’ place is covered in lava.” The temperature discussion is done, then and there.   
Tommy guides them through the Wastes, carefully steering their party away from Bastions and pits of lava. They hide behind netherrack walls and peer around to see Ghasts for the first time. Ethereal cries emit from the biggest creature the boys have ever seen. After the long time he’s been away from the Nether, Tommy still finds them sort of beautiful. 

Walking a path, they pass tons of Piglins. Charlie has to keep his gaze trained to the floor, so Icarus describes to him what they’re coming up to. Tommy laughs at every joke the youngest makes because he’s raising a comedic genius. All is going well, they aren’t any unknown structures, things are okay. Against the reds of the scenery, their bright blue armour stands out. Standing silently when they hear a Ghast cry, pointing at all the strange biomes they pass, handing out spare gold to Piglin’s they come across. There isn’t anything man-made, Tommy doesn’t have to worry. Around what they assume is noon, they break for lunch. Tommy sketches the hellscape they’re facing.

Nothing man-made, no need to worry. Per usual, Icarus sees the structure before anyone else. Made of crimson planks and netherrack, it appears to be a house. Tommy’s breath catches. The idea that his peace could end right here, right now, terrifies him. He doesn’t dare shout, he can barely make his mouth move. He’s succumbed with complete and utter panic. When his eyes water the tears evaporate from the heat. Drawing his sword, his handshakes. Someone is calling his name but his whole brain feels so fuzzy that he can’t discern it. It’s over, it’s all over. The Ghast trill makes it through his panicked brain. His spotty vision clears enough to see the shape of a young child and the colour of a Ghast several feet away. 

“Charlie!? What do we do!?”  
“Calm down, it’s fine, it’s-Oh fuck what do we do!?”   
The little person floats closer, close enough that the panicked boys notice. He is the size of a very young human child, but his legs don’t end. His snow-white skin fades away into nothing, like the tendrils of a Ghast. With barely open eyes, he moves close enough to place a hand on Tommy’s shirt. He recoils from the touch, upsetting his breathing more.   
“Wha-Didn’t your parents teach you not to touch random strangers!? Are you stupid!?”  
“Icarus, he's a kid! You can’t yell at him!”   
Any arguing the kids were doing dissolves when Tommy crumbles onto the floor. The heat of the nether and the anxiety of Dream renders him virtually useless against anything coming near them. Within moments he fades from their current moment and lets fear consume him. 

The boy, little as he may be, reaches out and places a tiny hand on Tommy’s cheek. With a ghastly coo, he takes one of Tommy’s hands and tries to pull him closer to the house. Through teamwork, the trio manages to get him to his feet and into the crimson house. The littlest of them fusses about, giving Tommy anything in the house he can get his hands on. Icarus sits with Tommy and watches the child, he’s pressed right up against his Dad, speaking to him and trying to calm him. Charlie surveys the house, but it’s really not much of a house at all. It’s a room with a desk, some chests, hay bales, and a blanket. On the desk, Charlie finds a large brown jacket, a pair of large circle glasses, and a note dated to multiple days prior. 

_‘I’m sorry, Percy,’_ It reads, _‘Your mother is watching over you.’_   
Charlie puts it together slowly. The house is nearly empty, this child is alone. He’s watching after Tommy like he’s very important. His vision mustn't be very good, and the jacket on the desk and Tommy’s are nearly the same shade.   
Taking the reins as the oldest sibling, he instructs, “Icarus, we've gotta get home.”  
“What do you mean?” Icarus is still pressed into Tommy’s side and doesn’t seem keen on leaving any time soon.   
“Dad’s freaking out, he won’t stop freaking out until we’re home.” Charlie gets to work collecting anything important in the house, it surprises him a little when there’s barely a thing. 

“What about the boy?” They both look over the white-haired little angel they stumbled across.   
“His name is Percy,” Charlie works up a child-friendly lie about the unknown father’s fate, “I think his dad...left him here.”   
Icarus makes a face and tightens his grip on Tommy, “Does he think Tommy is his dad?”  
“He might. Not sure. Either way, he will be.” It takes Icarus a second, but when he understands his wings puff up in jealousy.   
“We can’t adopt a brother without his permission!”  
Charlie kneels down in front of Percy and places his birth father’s brown jacket on him, “Why not?” 

It’s much too big, but the boy smiles wide, Charlie smiles back, “Hey little man, wanna come with us?”   
Sliding the frames onto the boy's face, his squinting stops and his jewel red eyes widen brightly, he makes a very happy sound, “See, he likes us.”  
“If Dad gets mad, you have to take the fall.”  
Charlie only rolls his eyes, they lead their panicked father away from the little house. Percy, the boy, follows them happily. Charlie watches Icarus and Percy dance around each other and giggle while he holds Tommy upright. Cognizance is returning to him, slowly, enough to hold his sword tightly and not enough to use it.   
“See Dad, it’s okay,” He whispers to him, “Whatever you’re scared of isn’t here.” 

Tommy mutters almost silently, “Icarus?”  
“Safe.”  
He reaches over to find Charlie’s hand, “You?”  
“Dad, I’m basically fucking carrying you, I’m fine?” He grasps Tommy’s hand tightly and gives it a squeeze.   
“He wasn’t there?”   
Charlie has no clue who ‘he’ is, but he prays he never finds out, “Nope, just a little kid.”  
“I’m sorry,” Tommy mumbles, his barely focused eyes are full of guilt.   
Charlie is old enough to know that Tommy hurts as much as he does.   
“Don’t. Just…” He looks at the ground and bites back saying more, “You do enough for us, we can help you too, you know?” 

When they’re nearly home, Tommy comes to and realizes they’ve brought back another child. He sends the boys through, sets up the TNT, and makes it through just before the explosion goes off. The first thing he sees on the other side is an extremely excited Percy crying out expressive noises and floating everywhere so quickly. He picks blue cornflowers and his eyes shine when he presents them to Tommy. Emotionally exhausted Tommy rides on Cat with Icarus, keeping a watchful eye over the smiling little ghast-hybrid. Considering how upset the other two children he came into the possession of were, he assumes the smiles will stop. 

But, they don’t. Percy is the most serene child he’s ever met. Despite not really being able to speak a lot of English, he’s the sweetest in the house. Like those before him, he spends a few weeks sleeping on the couch but seems to be happy with that either way. When Tommy feels better he builds Percy his own room. He decorates it spring yellow, using oak and cobblestone for the walls and floors respectively. The closet, the desk, the little bookshelf, and his newly bought toys are completely foreign to him. Percy moves around the little yellow room and points happily at every object. One spot was free at their four-person dinner table. He fits in perfectly. 

Percy ends up acting as Tommy’s little shadow. Tommy endeavours to teach him how to speak. Every day he talks to Percy about whatever he can think of, trying to teach him new words. When his birthday rolls around and he turns twenty, Percy makes his first attempt at speech. It doesn’t come out quite right, but he tries to say Tommy’s name. They reward the effort with an extra piece of cake. He needs anything he can to grow big and strong. When all three kids are asleep that night, he props open his book and talks to the people inside. Just little anecdotes about the three of his children. It accidentally wakes Percy, who comes in and crawls into bed with Tommy. This one requires a lot of attention. 

A few obstacles are run into. Icarus, mainly. While having a new playmate is fun and exciting, Icarus and Percy are _very_ different young boys. Percy tries to copy Tommy’s drawings and is scared to tears of any stranger. Icarus is _unabashedly_ unafraid of strangers, and would rather spend his time pretending to be a revolutionary. Tommy genuinely didn’t ever expect Icarus to get jealous. He’ll grab Tommy away from Percy when he’s asking for attention. At dinner he’ll demand to sit next to Tommy, not letting anything budge. Charlie tries the best he can to mediate, but Icarus is defiantly petulant. To try and ease the one-sided tension, he introduces a new player in the L’Manberg game. Niki. 

“Niki? What did she do?”  
Tommy stands in front of all three children, who he had forced to sit on the ground for this conversation, “Well, on top of being a certified badass, Niki was the most observant among us.”  
Icarus hangs onto every word, Tommy hands her a portrait of her he drew to the best of his memory, “More than anything, Niki was kind. Her head was all on right n’ shit. Her and Wilbur were very close.”  
“Really?” Icarus tentatively asks.   
“Mhm. Niki did a lot of watching, making sure things were safe, and getting supplies. Percy could play her.” Technically, he’s on the verge of bullshitting with that, but anything to make them get along.  
All three seem to like the idea, Charlie takes them out into the woods to play. Equipped with his little wooden sword, Icarus leads the pack. 

He’s at the back of the pack when they come back not even thirty minutes later. Charlie, carrying a crying Percy. When they enter the house, Icarus is undeniably guilty looking and storms into his bedroom.   
“What the fuck?” Tommy huffs, setting down his painting supplies and uprooting his afternoon plans.   
Charlie hands Percy to Tommy, “Take the little one.”   
He pets Percy’s hair and lets him sit in his lap until he stops crying, “Did Icarus do something?”  
“Yeah, no shit. Little bastard didn’t ‘like how he was playing’ and hit him with his fucking sword.” At this rate, Tommy was going to be fully grey by twenty-one.   
His expression must be giving that away because Charlie shrugs it off, “He’s just trying to avoid Middle Child Syndrome.”

Percy is put down for a nap, then Tommy prepares himself to go and speak to his trigger happy child.  
He knocks on Icarus’ door, “Big man, can I come in? We’ve gotta talk.”  
There is a pause, then a flurry to the door. It swings open and Icarus looks straight past Tommy and shouts down the hall, “You said you wouldn’t tell him!”  
“I lied!” Charlie shouts back.   
Icarus visibly crumbles then stomps back to his bed and wraps himself in his comforter.   
“Icarus, you know that I don’t like him more than you, right?”  
“You probably will, he’s all sweet and happy and cries all the time,” To avoid eye contact, Icarus slams himself down against his pillow.  
“I don’t play favourites, if I did, Charlie would be my favourite,” Tommy jokes.  
Erupting from his sulking hideaway, Icarus springs up, “No way! I would! You found me first!”

“I’m joking, I’m kidding!” With a ruffle of the hair, Icarus calms down.   
“You know I’ve gotta do-dad shit now, right?” He nods, so Tommy starts his spiel.   
“You can’t fuckin’ hit your brother, even if he’s being a massive prick.”  
Grumpy and pouty, Icarus challenged, “Even if he says terrible terrible words?”  
“Even then.” He lets out a little sigh and flops over into his pillow again.  
“You’ve gotta say sorry to Percy when he gets up from his nap,” Icarus nods, “And you can’t play with your sword or practice your bow for a week.”  
Sitting straight up again, he gapes at Tommy, he thinks of a retort for a very long time, but seemingly can’t come up with anything, “Fine! Fine! Can I still play L’Manberg?”  
Even eavesdropping Charlie laughs at this, it’s ridiculous to even ask, “You would even if I told you not to, I know you, big man!” 

June rolls in slowly, the heat progresses slower this year. The flowers in the garden bloom taller, and the vegetables are more abundant. Percy picks up simple tasks like weeding so easily that Tommy wonders if he was made to wade through the dirt. He’s so small still that when they add new plants to the steadily growing garden, his entire arm gets coating in a thin layer of dirt. With Charlie on the bench listening to music, Icarus flying overhead, and Tommy showing Percy how to use a trowel, it feels idyllic. Spring, the season of growth is over. Summer is here now, but it doesn’t hit as abruptly as it did in previous years. No matter how hot it gets, he’s sure his youngest won’t mind. 

Speech comes to him just before Icarus’ birthday. It’s a small handful of words, like disc, happy, sad, good, and bad. Complex words are still a little hard, anything over three syllables is basically impossible to him. On July the 14th, he presents Icarus with a surprise present. Though he can’t say his name yet, he’s picked up on the birds outside.   
“Crow!” He bubbles, holding up a little wrapped box for Icarus.   
Confusion morphs onto his face as he takes the little box, “Crow? I’m not a crow! I’m Icarus!”  
“You have crow’s wings, bud.”  
“Oh…”  
Icarus ends up happier about being called a Crow. All in all, he gets a new wooden sword painted with the L’Manberg flag on the handle, a book on adventuring, and a shiny golden pendant with an emerald laid inside. He swears up and down he doesn’t like the pendant Percy picked for him, but when it hits the light and sparkles he’s completely mesmerized. 

If he thinks about what his children taught him, in all honesty, Tommy thinks he’d be a much worse man without them. Icarus, who showed him how to think more creatively and inspired him to become a painter. Charlie, who shows him every day that he’s _not_ alone and that children his age can do things other than be soldiers. Percy, who turns out to be the most emotionally intelligent of _all_ of them. And he’s _four_ , so it says a lot. Because Tommy cries much more than he’d like to admit, secretly when the children are asleep. He’s ashamed. Everything changes when he tries talking to a crying Percy instead of using gestures and hugs.

The boy wails out his inhuman cries, and Tommy puts a hand on his cheek.  
“I know, I know you feel bad right now, you’ll be okay. Crying is very hard.”  
Percy shakes his head and clenches his little fists, “Sad, good.”  
“Uh-Wha-What’cha mean by that, big man?”  
“Sad good!” He trills, “Grow!”  
He raises his arms in the motion of a tree growing and gaining its leaves. In twenty years, nobody but a four-year-old child had ever told him that being _sad_ was _good_. Let alone, something that _grows_ you.   
“Where did you learn that?”   
The boy thinks, then taps his glasses. His birth father had told him that. Tommy prays that if he’s watching over him he doesn’t think anything bad of him. Despite whatever happened, he must have loved him at some point. He taught his child that sadness was something that makes you grow. 

Is it wrong, though? All his sadness, all his pain, despite being _awful_ had grown him into the young man he is now. He wouldn’t wanna do it again, but it _had_ grown him. The thought scares him. Something good coming from the _horrors_ of war, something good coming from Wilbur’s death, something _good_ coming from Dream's _manipulation_. Technically, it’s true. All those things, however insignificant, lead to this. This _perfect_ mountain with everything he needs on it. But...not _everything_. That’s why it scares him so much. In essence, his happy little world came from his decision to run away from all his problems. The truth _hurts_. 

Two more times, Percy tells someone that sad is good. First, is Icarus. His second molt started earlier this year, at the very end of August. It _destroys_ him for the first few days. The older two tell him all about how it’ll be okay, it will pass. His feathers will grow back in, the sadness will pass. Nothing _helps_. The loss of flight makes him distraught. Picking a spot on the couch, he curls up into a little ball surrounding himself with his remaining feathers, and he stays there. Percy abandons watching dinner one night to float over to him. In silence he sits next to Icarus, leaning only slightly against his wing.   
“Sad,” Begins Percy, drawing the attention of the entire house.   
The older two anticipate Icarus’ snapping before it happens, “Of course I’m fuckin’ sad! I can’t even do the one stupid thing that birds can!”  
Resolute, Percy shouts instead of falling back, “Sad, good!”   
Icarus’s wings droop open and he stares at Percy teary-eyed.  
“Sad grows,” Percy echos, crawling onto Icarus’ lap and resting his hands on his cheeks, “You grow.”

The second, later in October, is a silent moment. After his fifteenth birthday, Charlie is allowed to take Percy to the village on his own. The navy blue winter cape he’d been gifted needed tailoring and Percy had practically begged to come. An easy first outing alone. Easy. It was supposed to be easy. Nothing is ever easy. On their way home, they’re followed. A group of travellers from another town. The child scared by adults and the child scared by strangers. It isn’t a good mix. They shouldn’t have tried to grab Percy. Before he even thinks, Charlie tugs on his mask and runs him through with his sword. A four versus one shouldn’t be a fair fight. Nobody expects the teenager with a child to protect to walk away victorious.   
Charlie, kneeling in front of Percy, moves his little hands away from his eyes, “It’s...It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m not gonna let you get hurt, okay?”  
Percy reaches forward and pulls his mask away, he beams “Eyes!”  
In a second, his expression changes and tears roll down his face, “Oh...I’m-I’m sorry. I’m-This...Don’t tell Dad okay?”  
“Sad?” Questions Percy, more than confused by the sudden change in emotion.

“I feel guilty. Do you know what guilty feels like?”  
Percy nods, “Sad.”  
“I-Yeah, bud. I’m sad.”  
The little smile on his face crushes Charlie, “Sad good!”  
“I’m-Percy, I’m not good. My sad isn’t good.” His eyebrows knot up in confusion because for the life of him the little boy can’t think of a thing wrong with his older brother.   
“Sad grows. You grow. Sad is good.” States Percy, completely unwavering.  
“Percy-”  
Charlie is cut off by Percy’s forehead bumping into his, “You are good, I know.”   
Percy’s tiny whisper breaks Charlie’s resolve, he drags Percy in for a hug and he cries for a while. They tell Tommy a story where they ran and didn’t fight when they get home. Percy struggles with secrets, but he understands that something is going on and he needs to help.

Things are saccharine sweet most of the time. Most of the time it's sweetness, most of the time it’s happy. The fourth-year is nearly over when everything nearly stops. Over the long time they’ve been away from the Nether, they’ve all but forgotten that Percy is _from_ there. They take a small vacation before Christmas. Early December is spent outdoors in the desert, they camp for a few days and travel further than they have on other trips. Percy bathes in the desert heat, lies down flat in the burning sand and is completely fine. Tommy knows the heat doesn’t bother him. 

He forgets that it doesn’t just “not bother” him. He _somehow_ forgets that Ghasts are completely fire resistant. The four of them have stopped at a beach. Icarus is leg deep in the cool water and gazing at all the pretty tropical fish. Charlie is diving under and trying to get a good look at the corals up close. Tommy is keeping an eye on all the children, or, he thinks he is. The second Icarus makes a fuss about the tips of his wings getting wet, Percy wanders off. They shout his name, look and-Like always, Icarus spots him first. He’s in the air in an instant, flying as quickly as he can to pull his younger brother away from the lava pool he’s staring into intensely. 

Tommy and Charlie run after, watching as a nightmarish event takes place in front of them. Icarus grabs and pulls with all his might, but Percy shouts and there is some strange event that clouds their heads in smoke. Icarus drops Percy who dives straight into the lava. All three _scream_. For a split second, Tommy is consumed with panic and grief, sprinting for this little lava pool and screaming for Percy. Then, he slows and nearly collapses from relief. Charlie and Icarus are still screaming, Tommy shouts above them.  
“It’s fine! Boys! It’s okay! He’s a bloody fuckin’ ghast! He’s fine!”   
They hear a little ghastly coo from the lava pool and the boys stop screaming to start cheering. It’s adrenaline most likely, but still.   
“Yes! Fire-proof brother!”  
“Fucking score!”   
The older two high-five and the situation calms, they decide to return to playing in the ocean. 

Tommy watches over Percy, who is happily swimming through the little pool.   
“You gave us a real big scare, y’know that?”  
Percy only gives a chirp in response, “Jesus, big man! You really fuckin’ like that thing, huh?”   
“Reminds ya’ of the Nether does it?” He nods, Tommy has to chuckle.   
When he’s ready to come out, he shakes himself of any remaining lava, and Tommy dumps a bucket of water on him. He gets down on one knee and picks little bits of obsidian from his hair and dust off his arms.   
A smile illuminates Percy’s face, and Tommy ruffles his hair, “You know, you truly are a beautiful creature. Good on your dad for gettin’ with a Ghast.”

When they arrive back home and things wind down, the fifth year comes without Tommy even realizing it. He wakes up to noise in the kitchen and inspects silently.   
“Icarus that’s too much fucking cocoa.” There is a clattering, then a shout.   
“Fuck you! You can’t tell me what to do!”  
“I literally can but okay.”  
The youngest, who Tommy didn’t even think was awake, chimes in, “Oven!”  
“Oh-Shit! Thank you, Percy,” Charlie ruffles Percy's hair, “Look at you little man, being more useful than Icarus!”  
The volume elevates and Tommy walks into the room, “You are such a massive fucking dickhead!”  
“Takes one to know one!” Icarus is messing with Charlie as he mixes a large bowl of chocolate pancake batter. 

“Ahem.” All three children turn to him, Percy smiles, Icarus and Charlie look at each other.   
“Oh! Fuck! Icarus I blame you! You were loud!”  
“Both!” Percy accuses the whole kitchen stops.   
“Did we just get dissed by the kid who can’t even say big words?”  
Laughter fills the air, Tommy walks over to closely inspect the place, “You definitely did. What’s all this then?”  
On the table are an assortment of ingredients, and a leather-bound journal, “Oh! Uh-Right-Charlie can I do it?”  
Charlie shrugs, and Icarus grabs the little book, “Go ahead. It was your idea wasn’t it?”  
“Happy anniversary!” He shouts, handing Tommy the thing.   
“Happy!” Percy echos, hugging Tommy’s leg. 

He runs a thumb over the front of the journal. Imprinted on it is a blue and yellow flower he recognizes as a forget-me-not. Quite the ironic flower for the occasion. He didn’t even remember this was the day.   
“Oh-Shit, that was today!? I didn’t have anything planned.” He exclaims, ruffling Icarus’ hair as a form of thanks.   
“Yeah, we know, that’s why we did it,” Charlie mumbles out while trying desperately to mix the batter to his liking.  
“We!” Percy parrots, and Tommy runs a hand through his hair as well. 

This time, Tommy dares not to speak his mantra aloud in fear of ruining the moment. He smiles wide, takes over breakfast, and listens to his oldest children bicker with each other. Percy goes back to dutifully watching the oven. 

_‘My name is Tommy Innit, I am not alone, I am safe. Things are okay.’_ He thinks. Charlie changes the music disc to Cat at Percy’s request. He hums along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all interaction is appreciated, I hope you enjoyed <3


	5. Clementines & Mandarins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy Innit speaks to a real woman!? Not clickbait!!1!!1!!
> 
> Or, alternatively, Tommy Innit with a baby, what will he do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of part one! I hope you've all enjoyed being along for the ride! <3

In the cold of winter, Tommy realizes how little he knows about what became of his old home. Of Ghostbur, of Tubbo, of Techno. Are people he loves so desperately dead? What became of L’Manberg after his exile? A part of his identity, however small, has faded away with him. Do they miss him like he misses them? Uprooting his life again doesn’t seem like an option but he’d kill for a day back. Just a day. It starts to eat away at him in January, and it doesn’t stop when the snow melts. 

Again, he plants his garden. Early spring air builds in his lungs and he _breathes_. His head wars as he tends to the oleander and blue violets. Anxiety going head-to-head with longing. Dream still scares him too much to fully commit, but he misses his friends too much to forgo going back. It’s hard for him. He starts sitting at the top of the mountain on his bridge and watching the leaves sway in the wind. How can you be both happy and satisfied and sad and longing at the same time? In early March, Charlie sits with him.  
“Percy told me his birthday is on the fourteenth,” He declares, the wind whips past their faces.  
“We’ll have to go to the village and pick out presents.”  
Charlie leans over and puts his head on Tommy’s shoulder, “I’ll take Icarus down tomorrow during Percy’s nap.”  
Neither speaks until they’re called into the house by the younger too. They watch the trees and listen to the wind. It’s the closest they get to ‘I love you’. 

Tommy paints. Exchanging his exceptional swordwork for languid and beautiful brush strokes. Using soft seafoam blues and sage greens, he works on a painting of a pond. Still water with floating lily pads and lotus flowers, algae pooling at its edges. On their way out the door, the children suggest painting in little ducks. When he adds the birds, he paints them with differently coloured bandanas around their neck. One is a very particular shade of navy blue, Tommy pretends it’s a coincidence. The sun above the pond is setting, leaving the sky warm with pinks, oranges, and yellows. He’s always liked the sunset. 

In the village, Icarus and Charlie spend their time pouring over gifts for their little brother. Nothing really seems right to them either. They endeavour to make something for him, they realize that their little brother has not seen fireworks. When they’re looking through the shops, there are some on sale. Star-shaped and bright green, they cost a sizable portion of the emeralds Tommy gave them. It’s decided that the fireworks will be kept a secret from Tommy, and so they buy a little plush panda, a box of crayons, and nearly a stack of paper. Percy’s been developing a habit of parroting Tommy’s actions and it’s only right he gets his own art supplies. He watches Tommy paint every time he brings out his easel. 

For his fifth birthday, the older boys insist on setting up his party in the garden. They have a beautiful picnic during sunset. Tommy insists they should go in but the older boys beg and plead for just a little more time. A little more darkness. Percy is yawning in Tommy’s lap when Charlie sneaks up the mountain. Icarus tugs Percy’s arm and points into the sky and the bang of a firework goes off. Lime green illuminates the early evening sky and Charlie rushes back down with a huge grin. Percy is mesmerized and cheers like crazy. In the house, there are very few rules, but Tommy makes another that night. No buying and hiding explosives in the house. He can’t believe he had to even _make_ that a rule. 

Spring passes quickly, and before they know it, it’s July. Icarus asks for another adventure and who is Tommy to say no. His sadness has passed slightly, it doesn’t overtake him as much, but there are still days when it’s hard to do his tasks. Their little vacation seems to smack him out of it. They go on a search for a flower forest because it has minimal danger and can still introduce the children to new things. Namely, _bees_. Tommy secretly prays that they’ll see tons. Every night they check-in with each other, showing off their green fabric bracelets and stating if they want to go home. No one wants to. When they reach the forest, Icarus loses his _mind_. Icarus and Percy play L’Manberg in the fields as Charlie and Tommy set up camp. 

Nearby, there’s a village which they narrowly avoid. Any upsets to their trip would be thoroughly unwelcome. On the 14th, Icarus demands a forest-wide search for every single kind of flower. It’s his birthday, so they can’t exactly say no. Tommy goes with Icarus, Charlie goes with Percy. Icarus immediately leads him on a wild goose chase by following bees instead of a trail. When they hear the baby crying, they snap to attention and stare at each other. Icarus flies above the trees, and a short ways away is a large brown box. Without thinking, he calls out the direction to his father and flies off immediately. 

Tommy reaches Icarus a few minutes later. He’s trying desperately to calm the baby. The box, left under a beehive, doesn’t look in terrible shape. The flowers wave slightly with the wind, popping out of soft green grass. Tommy walks over and looks into the box. Laying on a pastel yellow blanket is a very young baby. Tiny chitin wings on its back, a pair of antennae, big glossy black eyes. When it registers in his mind that this child is in fact part bee, he tries not to think about the very clear implications. He’s never held a baby before, but he knows to stabilize the head. He tries his best to hold and soothe the child.  
“Icarus, fly up and find your brothers, meet me back at camp.”  
And Icarus flies up. He doesn’t go back to camp, though. He leads Charlie and Percy right to them. 

Charlie immediately corrects how he’s holding the child, moving the baby in Tommy’s arms to have her sitting comfortably.  
“There, she should be more comfortable now,” Fusses Charlie, gently patting the baby on the head.  
“She?” Tommy asks, before actually noticing that the child is wearing a mustard yellow dress with a white collar.  
“Oh just-The dress-Actually, nevermind. I shouldn’t assume.”  
“No! It’s a girl!” Calls Icarus from the box, holding up a white note.  
“This note says ‘Please take care of my daughter. Her birthday is May 25th. She is part-bee. Her name is Rosaline.’, it’s probably from her mom!”  
“Parents have a bad habit of leaving their children in forests and giving them dumb names,” Charlie scoffs, and Icarus blows a raspberry at him.

Tommy sighs loudly, rocking the little girl gently against his chest, “Rosaline is a shit name, but whoever’s gonna take care of her can deal with that.”  
“Wha-No! We’re keeping her! Aren’t we!?” Icarus sputters, clearly outraged at the idea.  
“Where did you get that idea?”  
He thinks for a moment, then shouts, “We kept Charlie and Percy!”  
“He’s right, you did keep us.” Charlie agrees, moving to take Rosaline's blanket from the box.  
In a harsh whisper-shout Tommy stares down his children, “I don’t know how to look after a baby! I’m fuckin’ twenty-one! I shouldn’t have any children at all!”  
Icarus and Charlie share a look, then stare at their father. The little girl has swiftly fallen sound asleep against his chest, and her tiny hand has taken a hold of his shirt.  
Charlie rolls his eyes, and starts to walk back to camp, “I know how to take care of a baby, I’ll just teach you.” 

“If we’re going to keep her, she needs a better name, Rosaline is shit,” Icarus mutters that night, as they’re trying to get the baby down to sleep.  
“Her name’s Clementine,” Tommy states, and that is that.  
That’s how Tommy acquires a daughter. Once they get home and get her her own crib, she becomes a very happy baby. She smiles easily and plentifully. Charlie turns out to be some sort of baby genius, and he teaches Tommy all about taking care of her. Most of the day she sleeps as Tommy works nearby. She rests on his stomach often, and sometimes the boys will catch them both asleep together on the couch. 

August changes everything because Charlie buys a red fabric sling and teaches Tommy how to tie Clementine to his chest. She makes trips to the village and completely woos all the locals. He tries to buy baby clothes, but the tailor practically gives them away for free. Clementine has a wider wardrobe than anyone else in the house. With a dress in every colour, socks with pretty patterns, and a few matching sets of jumpers and pants, she is locked in as the family member with the most fashion sense. Her auburn hair grows quickly and curls quicker, by the time she’s three months old she has a full head of the stuff. 

Her crib stays in Tommy’s room, and she sleeps right next to his bed. When he falls asleep at night, he watches her little chest move up and down in her sleep. He follows her breathing and drifts. His dreams plague him with a longing for home again. So guilt doesn’t consume him, he decides he can have two places he considers home. Though it’s not really the place that he misses, but the people. He imagines the way Tubbo would light up at the sight of a bee-child. Surely, if he ever goes back, she’d get attached to him so very quickly. Sometimes, he dreams that his children call him “Uncle Tubbo”. It’s sweet. Both Clementine and Tubbo were children he found in boxes, who had a connection to bees, and a smile that felt like sunshine. 

Quietly, his sadness returns. He misses home, more than anything. It eats away at him. He spends time pouring over portraits he’s drawn, trying to get everybody’s faces right. He draws and draws and draws. Percy even ends up picking up the drawing, trying to make family portraits include every single person in Tommy’s forget-me-not journal. Summer passes, the fall starts. Tommy cools with the weather. He jokes less, he talks less. The boys have a meeting. 

On a trip into town to give their father some space, Charlie spends his pocket change on a little box of mandarin oranges. Icarus and Percy are a little quieter than usual, Charlie assumes they’re worried. He takes them deeper into the woods than they’re usually allowed. They sit at the top of a large hill. Charlie peels an orange and hands his little brothers the bigger pieces.  
Icarus picks at the pith on his slices, “Dad’s okay, right?”  
“I think he’s homesick,” Charlie mutters, popping a piece of the fruit into his mouth and biting down hard to taste the sweet and tangy flavour.  
“What do we do?”  
Percy adds, and his brothers laugh, “Eat!”  
“Well, yeah, Perce, but I meant about dad,” Icarus says through his giggles.  
The sun is starting to set in the distance, the light hitting the trees just perfectly.  
“We could ask to move.”

Icarus nods, slowly muttering, “I’d miss the house.”  
“So would I.” Agrees Charlie, the crickets in the woods start to chirp.  
“I…” Echos Percy, who leans against Icarus and is greeted with a wing around his back.  
In silence, they eat their oranges and watch the sunset over the trees. It glows gold, giving the boys a beautiful view of the forest floor beneath their hill.  
After a while of deliberation, Charlie offers, “We could probably see L’Manberg, though.”  
“You think so?” Icarus perks up at this, looking between both of his brothers hopefully.  
“I mean, it’s real, isn’t it?” 

Percy smiles wide and shouts, “Niki! Tubbo!”  
“We could meet them too if they’re around,” Charlie says with a laugh, leaning over to ruffle Percy’s hair.  
“And all our relatives!” Icarus is excited now, and Percy follows suit.  
The oldest brother pauses, looking down his orange slices and shoving one in his mouth, “We...yeah, we could.”  
“Are you still scared of Technoblade?” Whispers Icarus, Charlie sighs and has to nod in agreement.  
“I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

They all quiet once again, Percy crawls over Icarus and squeezes between his two older brothers.  
“I think we should go. It’ll make dad happy. He makes us happy all the time, so we should make him happy.” Confidence and hope pour from Icarus as he continues their conversation, he raises a hand triumphantly in the air.  
Percy copies him, raising his much smaller fist in the air, “Good dad! Happy!”  
Rolling his eyes lovingly, Charlie half-asses raising his arm, “He deserves it. He’s...He made this place his home for us. We can make a compromise for him.”  
Charlie peels another orange and again gives the bigger pieces to his brothers, compromising unconsciously for their happiness as well. They put the peels back in the box and leave the last orange for Tommy. 

Dinner is ready when they return home and offer Tommy the orange. Icarus insists on peeling it for him, Percy hands Tommy each slice carefully. He eats them along with their dinner and is thankful for the sweet gifts. Charlie and Icarus exchange strange looks that make Tommy suspicious.  
“You two got somethin’ to say?”  
Charlie elbows Icarus, “Icarus? You wanna-”  
“No, you-you can do it! It’s fine”  
Rolling his eyes, Charlie gives his younger brother a dirty look, “Dude, just ask him. I came up with the idea, so you have to tell him.”  
Icarus pokes him with his fork, “Why would I have to tell him if you made up the idea!?”  
“L’Manberg!” Percy shouts over them both, and Tommy gives his sons a strange look. 

“Someone’s got to tell me what’s going on, or I’ll uh-” Tommy wracks his mind for what he could do, “I’ll ground you.”  
They can hear the crickets from outside and it nearly makes Tommy laugh, before Icarus shouts, “Charlie thinks we should move!”  
“Wha-Not fair! You two agreed we should!”  
Confused, Tommy puts down his utensils and sits up a little straighter, “Why would we move?”  
Icarus sighs loudly, and slams his hands down on the table, “Because you’re all fuckin’ depressed and shit! We can move to L’Manberg!”  
“Icarus-”  
Charlie interjects before Tommy can finish, “That sounds really bad, you know that right?”  
“At least I manned up and said it-”

It’s important that he tells them now, “Boys, I’m exiled from L’Manberg.”  
The three boys blink at him, Icarus holds back laughter, Charlie just sarcastically challenges his words, “Okay...and?”  
Tommy feels the need to rub his temples and let out an exasperated sigh, “What do you mean _‘and’_!? I can’t go back! You know what exiled means!”  
Charlie retaliates first, “You’re _you_ , dad, you wouldn’t let an exile stop you. You’re fuckin’ Tommy Innit!”  
“Plus, you’re gonna be sad like...forever if we don’t at least _try_!” Icarus mutters after, much quieter than Charlie.  
“And if they kick us out?”  
“We come back. You’re making it more complicated than it has to be.” His oldest huffs, he can’t _fully_ disagree with it. 

Tommy can’t ignore the children’s kindness forever. They agree to go on one condition, they have to listen to Tommy. Under all conditions. The younger children have no idea that there is a threat. After they’ve gone to bed, Tommy gives Charlie very specific instructions. If a man with a white smiley-face mask appears, Charlie is to take all three of his siblings, get on the horses, and run as far as they can go. Tommy shakes as he tells him this, but Charlie seems to understand. He doesn’t argue, he doesn’t ask a single question, he simply nods and agrees. It’s silent in the house, so Charlie quietly turns on the jukebox and they sit across from each other until they resign to bed. 

Early fall passes and each day they work a little harder. Packing, disassembling farms, selling their farm animals. Charlie insists they leave before his birthday, the rest of the family objects. On the morning of October 3rd, they sit at the kitchen table for dinner for the very last time. Charlie turns sixteen and smiles the whole day. They don’t buy him much, just a travel container for his music discs and a red fox plush to match his white arctic one. He calls this one Mandarin, after the fruit. It’s slowly become his favourite food. When they get up and get moving the next morning, Tommy gives him a small box of oranges for the trip. Tommy rides on Mellohi with Clementine, Icarus rides on Cat with Percy. Charlie walks, clearing paths and wielding his sword to slash through bushes. It’s clear he missed using his sword. He lets Percy peel his first orange of the morning for him. They leave a little orange peel trail through the start of the forest. 

They follow Tommy’s compass, worn dutifully around his neck for five years. It points north, almost directly. Icarus makes up a new form of L’Manberg when they set up their first campsite. Tommy plays himself, Clementine plays Tubbo. Icarus plays “President Soot”, he hasn’t called him Wilbur since Charlie told him it was rude ages ago. Percy tags along as Niki. It is essentially a 2v1 snowball fight to “protect Tommy and Tubbo” because Tommy can’t exactly play along. He boils water and lays Clementine down on her travelling crib. Percy and Icarus come into their campsite triumphant, having defeated the evil King Eret. They tell Tommy all about their game, how they won, when they nearly lost. When Icarus tells him they were pretending to protect him and Tubbo, he runs a hand over his compass gently. Tubbo would probably find that hilarious. 

They try to stick to warmer biomes with a lack of snowfall. Deserts, jungles, mesa if they’re lucky. They steer away from snowy areas where the younger ones are forced into their winter capes and long sleeves. Icarus and Charlie end up sharing a bed most nights, they brought their blue comforters, and when it gets cold they pile them onto them both and fall asleep warm and cozy. Tommy takes extra care to keep Clementine warm, she can’t sleep with loose blankets. He keeps her crib closest to the fire and swaddles her in a warm blanket. To keep her head warm, he ties the rest of Tubbo’s old bandana around her head like a hat. Percy sleeps with him, and as it turns out, the child is a _walking heater_. Everyone sleeps soundly, even if it snows outside. 

It takes them months. Every day they wake up early and sleep just past sunset, moving almost non-stop for a long time. Tommy fishes his old communicator out of his bag and turns it on. He watches the coordinates steadily tick down and waits for scenery he recognizes or numbers he knows. Often, the boys will make up games. Tommy just has to stare down at the happy child strapped to his chest and sigh. Every night when they stop to make camp, Tommy plays with her. It takes a lot of stops and a lot of work. They’ve all become steadily attached to the bright little girl. 

Her wings flap happily whenever someone in the group laughs, she starts making buzzing noises, she giggles and smiles at anything any of the family members says to her. Tommy truly comes to terms with the fact there is a girl in the family on the trip. He knows well enough not to treat her differently, he’s not stupid. But you don’t really expect the first woman you have an extremely close bond with to be your daughter, especially if you haven’t even held hands with an adult woman before. Absent-mindedly, he wonders if he’ll ever get a wife. Will he have time? He has four children to look after, even if one is basically independent by now. Clementine starts crawling in November, he stops thinking about wives and dotes on his little girl endlessly. 

He swears up and down he doesn’t have favourite children, and for the most part, it’s true. Charlie, Icarus, and Percy share his love equally. Clementine...well, she’s a baby. It’s probably normal for him to give her a little more attention. He dresses her and feeds her and holds her. She’s different from the boys. Not just because she’s a girl, but because she’s a baby. Tommy gets to raise her her whole life. With Charlie, it’s complicated. With Icarus, it’s complicated. Percy’s parentage is a whole can of worms he doesn’t want to open. But Clementine? She’s all his. There are no other parents in her life, no one else will teach her to walk and to talk. He feels guilty that she’s taken the centre of his attention, but all his boys laugh at him when he tries to bring up his worries.  
“It’s only because you love her so much,” Charlie shrugs.  
“And you said we couldn’t keep her! Bet that sounds dumb to you now!” Icarus shouts, making Percy giggle even more. 

For what it’s worth though, the boys also love the baby. Half their travel time, Charlie _demands_ to carry her. He absolutely adores her. Each morning, he’ll help pick her outfits and always manages to pick prettier combinations than Tommy. He coos at her any time she makes a noise and reaches for his sword whenever she starts to cry, assuming some sort of threat. Icarus, while the least understanding that you have to be gentle with a baby, tries his hardest. He wants to play with her, and he’s interested in her growing up, but he struggles to communicate with her. One day, he realizes he gets to teach his baby sister how to fly and it makes him so much gentler with her. She needs to grow up strong because he needs to teach her how to fly. Percy, though, is the closest to her. He floats around her space and plays peekaboo with her anytime he can. He’ll pick up after her, and insist on helping feed her. He’s even rocked her to sleep a few times. Tommy can tell now, that it’ll be hell on earth when she grows up and wants independence. All three boys will be over-protective and determined not to let her be hurt. 

It warms him to know his three younger children have the opportunity to grow up kindly. That their siblings will never truly hurt them. They’ll bicker and argue, but never once will they have a situation like him. In no world would Icarus cheer on Charlie as he kicks Percy’s ass in a pit. In no world would Icarus drag Clementine into a revolutionary war. Never would any of them _ever_ spar with each other to the point of injury or near-death. Most importantly, he thinks, is that he will never let any of his children reach the point where they feel they need to hurt each other when they feel down. Despite everything, the one thing he can surely say he _isn’t_ is his father. 

There’s snow pelting down in December. The five year anniversary comes. They drink hot chocolate in the snowy tundra to celebrate, Clementine babbles along and her brothers pretend she’s actually participating in conversation. With his daughter strapped to his chest, he checks the coordinates. They can’t be far from Dream SMP now. He’s riding atop Mellohi, leading Cat along. Percy rides on Cat and hums out little songs, reading one of the small books they’d packed to pass the time. Charlie and Icarus are up ahead. They begged to run further ahead and mess around in the snow. As a precaution, Tommy gifts Charlie the Antarctic Empire shield in case anyone comes across them. They’re just far enough ahead that they appear in his vision as little blobs. Charlie’s blue winter cape ruffles in the winter wind, Icarus flies over his head and chatters on and on about L’Manberg. 

“What do you _mean_ L’Manberg wouldn’t have statues!? Obviously, they have statues of the presidents!” Icarus fights, arguing with his older brother like his life depends on it.  
Charlie rolls his eyes, “Okay, President Soot is _not_ a megalomaniac, he’s not gonna have any fucking statues.”  
“That’s not even a real word!” Icarus protests, flapping oncoming snow into Charlie’s face.  
Pulling off his mask to wipe the snow off of it, Charlie retorts, “Of course it’s a real word! Just because you don’t know it doesn’t mean it’s not real!”  
“What’s it mean then, smartass!?”  
“It’s a person obsessed with their own power. President Soot was cool and not power-hungry.”  
Icarus huffs indignantly, “He could’ve been! We don’t know the whole story!”  
“So you actively choose to believe the man you look up to is power-hungry and wants statues of himself everywhere?” Charlie drones sarcastically.  
“Yes, I do! And I am pogchamp, motherfucker!” They pass over a snowy hill and out of Tommy’s field of vision. 

“You’re dumb if you think President Soot had his head that far up his own ass,” Says Charlie staring out and assessing the new scenery. His blood runs cold when he sees a figure with large black wings across the snowy expanse.  
“And you’re dumb if you think he didn’t recognize his own awesome!” Icarus shouts, Charlie draws his sword and raises the shield.  
The figure moves towards them, their outfit is a soft blue with a red capelet, “Dude, shut up.”  
“No! I will not shut-” Charlie smacks him with the shield and points with his sword.  
“Icarus. Look.” Icarus sees the figure and moves behind Charlie.  
He whispers, “Do you think he’s dangerous?”  
Charlie recognizes the hat he’s wearing, it’s the same one from Tommy’s drawings. His blood runs cold and he shivers.  
“That’s fuckin’ Philza Minecraft, dumbass.”  
“Oh, well, in that case,” Icarus inhales and shouts as loudly as he can across the large space, raising his hand and waving, “Hello!”

The man now recognized as Philza turns and sees them. From that far away, he makes out the design on the shield and goes running towards them.  
“Oh, shit-” Charlie voices, trying to turn and run back to Tommy, but catching on his cape and falling flat on his face.  
“You alright there, mate?” Phil calls, and Icarus laughs.  
“He’s just a dumbass!” Icarus calls back.  
Phil gets close enough that they could see each other closely. Icarus is laughing but Phil seems upset.  
“Tommy, mate, where have you _been_!? We thought you were dead!”  
Charlie turns himself over and sits upright in the snow, “Wrong Innit, dumbass.”  
Icarus helps him up, smacking him when he tries to point his sword at Phil. Phil looks at them confused. 

Over the hill, Tommy comes into view on Mellohi, leading Cat behind him still. Everyone stops in their tracks. Phil stares up at Tommy, their eyes meet. Phil looks like he’s about to cry, but Tommy just looks nervous.  
“Tommy?” Phil asks quietly, tears brimming in his eyes.  
“Hello, big man,” Tommy says with a smile, tears roll down Phil’s cheeks but nobody moves a muscle.  
It quiets again, the reunited father and son just look at each other, unsure of what move to make. 

Icarus loudly exclaims, “Great, our first moments here and we’re already making Grandpa _cry_! Great job, Charlie!”  
Charlie turns on his brother in an instant, smacking him with the shield, “It’s not my fault! He thought dad was dead! You’d cry too!”  
“God, you are such a shit older brother!” Whines Icarus, smacking him back as they begin smacking at each other and completely _ruining_ the moment.  
“I would trade you to King Eret for a corn chip!” Charlie argues, chucking snow into Icarus’ face and getting himself tackled. 

“What the _fuck_ is going on?” Phil loudly questions, staring at Tommy who’s struggling to hold back laughter.  
Tommy takes a deep breath and internally recounts his mantra with a few extra pieces added for flair, ‘My name is Tommy Innit, I am twenty-one years old. I have four children, two of whom are very adept at lightening the mood. I am not alone, I am safe. Things will be okay.’  
“You’ve got five grandkids _now_ , bitch!” He yells with a wild and deviant smile he used to wear in his teenage years, his children all laugh and cheer. 

The boys feel accomplished seeing that smile. They honestly didn’t expect to make it this far when they were sitting on that grassy hill peeling mandarin oranges. It feels warm despite the freezing temperatures. 

Things _will_ be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to stressedoutstars for being my proof-reader, they were with me when I came up with this AU and helped me pick a lot of little elements. Again, there will be a second part of this series out very soon detailing what happens during their return! So thankful for all the love on this work, you're all wonderful! I hope you enjoyed the ending to The Half A Decade Inbetween, stay tuned! Any and all interaction is highly appreciated!
> 
> Edit (02/20/21): The second part is now out! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3  
> Any and all interaction is super appreciated :)


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